


The Merchant of Verhalten

by velociraptor44



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, kyle x stan - Freeform, sp style, stan x kyle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 77,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velociraptor44/pseuds/velociraptor44
Summary: The Middle Ages were a turbulent time, filled with many obstacles and restrictions, for some classes more than others. Kyle, a merchant, and Stan, a knight, both come from starkly different worlds, worlds where interactions between their classes were limited to one quarter, or at least, that was how the society was set up. But of course, all political systems always look better on paper than in practice, because on paper, no one could've predicted the draw they would feel towards each other, a draw that surpassed the boundaries they so frequently crossed over...





	1. Chapter 1

In the heart of Europe, in the midst of the plague, falling empires, religious corruption, and a strict class system in place, there lay the small kingdom of Verhalten and its inhabitants, each one of them trying to make the best of whatever place in society they were born into. 

Stan Marsh picked up his shield off the ground and dusted off the dirt that had collected on it during one of the daily jousting practices. He noticed there was a small crack in the hardened wood in the top left corner, but shrugged it off, having seen much worse damage done to weaponry. His shield was broad and coloured red and yellow with a large horse and a fleur de lys painted masterfully in the centre of his family’s coat of arms, a coat of arms he didn’t wear all too proudly… 

His mother was certainly someone Stan could be proud of: Sharon Marsh, a lady from a family of tradesmen that married up in class, making her family proud and rich, with one small problem. Stan’s father and Sharon’s husband, Randy Marsh, was a town noble, yet he was often times mistook for a village idiot. Randy had all the qualifications of a noble: he came from a rich family line, owned land, knew how to read and write, and lived a lavish life, yet despite all the privileges he was born with, he still managed to fuck a lot of things up. 

It was clear that the rest of the Marsh’s paid a price for his idiocracy, Randy tainting the family name by making a scene at the local tavern almost every night and even challenging some well-trained knights into fights after he had one too many pints, but of all of the family, it was Stan who suffered the most. Primogeniture would have it that the inheritance would go to the eldest son, meaning Stan, yet Randy and Sharon had other ideas. As much as Stan loved his mother, one thing he could never get behind her on was her and his father’s adoration for his sister, a girl who was nearly 30 and was still not married off, and for good reason. 

Shelly Marsh was brutish, unladylike, selfish, and all together rude, spending most of her childhood beating up her brother and any other boys in the vicinity. It was clear that her unchecked rage was going to make it hard to find her a husband, which was the reason Sharon gave Stan as to why Shelly needed the inheritance more than he did, but her dark haired son knew that even though that may have been part of the reason, the Marsh’s still preferred the rageful brunette over their youngest male. Stan had long given up on trying to figure out why that was the case, and instead made the best life for himself that he could, not that he had any other choice. 

Stan knew from early on that there were a limited amount of choices that laid ahead of him, despite his high stature. He could either go into the clergy, or become a knight-errant. Considering the fact that Stan’s favourite parts of mass were the glass of wine and the closing prayers at the end, Stan knew that a life in the church wasn’t exactly suited for him, so naturally, he took up the latter. 

His training began young, at the ripe age of 7, as a page, where he was whisked off to a castle far away from his family (of which he found little problem) and began to prepare for a life of hardship. At the castle, he, along with other pages, learned how to ride a horse, use weapons, and become strong, something all little boys love to do. Another part of pagehood was learning something the boys didn’t exactly enjoy nearly as much: learning to read and write, useful skills no doubt, but ones that a young man definitely does not appreciate until much later in life. Dance and chivalry classes were also ones that were groaned upon by most of the kids, yet the dance part of his knight school was something Stan always secretly liked, not that he would have told the other boys that. 

Later on, Stan and his friends graduated to squire status, which was basically another way of saying that they became a knight’s bitch. They were charged with tasks like serving their knight meals, taking care of his horse, cleaning his dirty weapons, all while being treated like total shit from the entitled sons of bitches that made their work ten times harder than it had to be. It was a miserable four years, and it took all of Stan’s might to stick with the training, but he figured if he came this far that he may as well finish what he started. Well, that, and the fact that if he were to have dropped out, he would literally have had no future ahead of him. So, he soldiered on. 

Finally, the experienced Stan was dubbed a knight, meaning he could now look forward to a life of travelling across the continent and trying not to get killed, murdering people in the name of a God he didn’t really believe in and a King that was wrought with corruption. What a bright future that lay ahead. 

Fast forward to the present where we find the black haired boy shaking his head and drooping his hands by his side in defeat, staring down at yet another broken sword that was beyond repair. 

Stan finished dusting off his shield and hoisted it over his shoulder, his sword not even worth recovering. It had been broken since weapon practice that morning, but now was the first time the raven haired boy really saw the extensive damage that was done to it. 

“You fucked that up pretty good.” Clyde Donovan stated bluntly, looking down at the dishevelled piece of metal. “I honestly didn’t even know it was possible to bend metal like that.” He went on, taking off his helmet and brushing his sweaty brown hair out of his face. 

Stan bit his lip and sighed, not really in the mood to hear anything out of anyone’s mouth right now, let alone one of the guys he got along with the least throughout his entire knight training. 

“Yeah, I get it, Clyde.” Stan deadpanned, not taking his gaze off the sword. 

“Hey, didn’t they say that the next time you break a sword that you gotta pay for it yourself? Since you broke so many before?” Clyde continued in his nasally voice. 

Stan clenched his fists and nodded his head. “Yup. That’s exactly what they said.” He admitted, knowing full well that he probably deserved it on some level. 

Stan’s sword breaking had become somewhat of a joke amongst his squad, especially during their two-year long crusade together, well, a joke to everyone but Stan. The dark haired boy had a habit, not unlike his father, of getting drunk at various taverns along their route and challenging people to playful sword fights. The difference between his father and him, though, was that Stan actually knew how to yield it well. His name became known along the way, and neighbouring knights would challenge to take him on, something that after a few pints of mead seemed like a great idea. The fights weren’t brutal, but rather ways to show off their swordsmanship skills, but on occasion, the swords would fly out of their hands and get caught in places where they couldn’t be recovered from, such as furnaces, fires, or into the hand of someone else in the bar who would run off with a free sword before anyone had a chance to see where it went off flying to. But all good things had to come to an end, which meant for Stan that the King’s taxes would stop paying for his new, expensive weapon that he carelessly… kept ‘misplacing’. 

“So how are you gonna pay for a new one?” Clyde asked flatly, a slight curve of a smile crossing his face. 

Stan remained composed, despite the fact that he was getting more annoyed by the second. 

“Dude, I don’t know.” He stated, still fixated on the weapon.

Clyde picked up his head and noticed that the sun was beginning to go down, meaning their day of training had finished. 

“Well I’m gonna go, but uh, good luck with this. Kinda sucks that you don’t have any money yourself, so that means you’re probably gonna have to get some from a money lender.” He declared, trying to hold back a grin, knowing how high the interests rates from those kind of businesses were. 

Stan let out a deep sigh, “Yeah, that pretty much seems like my only choice.” He admitted aloud, the words laden with regret already. Clyde nodded and walked away, Stan knowing that when he got back home he was probably gonna tell all the other guys about this, making him look like an idiot yet again. The last thing Stan wanted was to get a reputation like his dad’s, but every day he was becoming more and more known for his Randy-ish behaviour, something Stan wished with all his might that he could stop, but due to his own carelessness, it his fate nearly seemed inevitable. 

Stan dragged his feet home and plopped himself down on his straw mattress, everything seeming much more uncomfortable than usual. He even considered falling asleep in his suit of armour, but somehow he managed to get up the strength to at least take that off. 

Morning came fast, too fast in fact. Morning meant that it was time to face his mistakes and beg for money from someone who was going to charge him somewhere around 30 to 50% interest, someone he never even met before but who had probably heard of his reputation through the grapevine. This was going to be humiliating, but what’s a knight without a sword? Jesus Christ, Stan thought, I already want this day to be over. 

He knew his window of time was limited and that he would have to miss morning prayers to conduct his business, which, truth be told, was probably going to be the highlight of his day. 

The black haired boy made his way into town and to a part of it that he had never been before: the outskirts of the Jewish ghetto. He heard stories of the place from his mom who actually grew up in the real world, and from what she’d told him, it really wasn’t that bad. Sharon even mentioned how she had some Jewish friends herself growing up. Stan chuckled to himself, highly doubting that anyone was going to want to be his friend if they knew anything about him or his family. 

Although Stan couldn’t go into the ghetto walls, he even felt out of place outside if it. He was clean shaven and dressed in wealthy, Christian attire of tights, puffy sleeves, and a fancy shirt tied with a golden coloured cincture around the waist, which was in clear contrast to basically everyone else who was bearded and draped in long tunics, with a much less elaborate cincture tied around the middle. 

Stan kept his eyes peeled for anyone that appeared to be lending money, and not long after he started looking, he found exactly what he was searching for. There was a long table with a large abacus spread over it for counting money, and bags of currency on the tabletop beside the man. The man who sat behind the table was dressed in a burgundy tunic and had curly, bright red hair, but very little facial hair in comparison to everyone else around there. Stan took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst, as he approached the table to do something he had never really done in his whole life: own up to his mistakes.


	2. A Change in Scenery

As Stan made his way closer to the red haired man, he suddenly became aware of a few things. The first was that the man appeared as though he was probably around the same age as him, in his early twenties, and second was that the man was much more refined up close. He had a strong, eastern European-looking jawline and bright emerald gleam in his eyes that stood out in contrast to his fair skin. 

The raven haired boy made his way up to the table, leaned against it, and cleared his throat, trying to get the boy’s attention, who seemed distracted by something important. The red head was staring into the distance with a concentrated look on his face, not having any concern for the customer he was supposed to be tending to. 

“Are you busy...?” Stan questioned. The curly haired boy spun around and faced Stan, Stan’s words taking him out of his trance. 

“Nope, not too busy.” He declared in a confident tone as he folded his hands on the table in front of himself and looked upward at the man waiting to be tended to. 

“Were you looking for someone?” Stan inquired, making conversation to delay the task he ventured all the way out there to accomplish. 

The red head smirked and shook his head, “If you really want to know, I was listening to the band over there.” He indicated with a finger towards a large group of men of all ages gathered around each playing instruments, the faint sounds of accordions and fiddles emitting from the general area. 

Stan nodded his head and listened for a moment, blocking out all the other noises in the bustling area and just allowing the unfamiliar sounds to flood his ears. 

“It’s nice, the music. I’ve never heard anything like it before.” He admitted. 

The red head chuckled to himself, “Nope, you probably haven’t. It’s called klezmer music.” He explained. “It’s nice music to dance to too, allegedly.” 

Stan cocked an eyebrow his way. “Allegedly?”

The red head nodded, his eyes still adverted away from Stan. “Yeah, allegedly. I’ve never really been one for dancing.” He explained, shrugging his shoulders. 

Stan crossed his arms over his chest, finding his statement hard to believe. “Really? For me that was pretty much one of the only things I ever liked in my training.” He admitted, feeling an unusual sense of comfort around the guy he just met. 

“Yeah well, it’s not for everyone.” The man countered flatly, finally turning towards Stan and giving him his full attention. “Anyways, you came here for a loan, right?” He added, getting down to business.  
Stan laughed to himself and scratched the back of his neck, “Uh yeah, so…about that,” He began awkwardly, “I’m not really sure how this works. I, uh, I’ve never had to borrow money from anyone before.”

The red head smiled to himself, “Yeah, I can see that.” He said plainly. “But it’s not too hard to understand. Here’s how it works: you give me your name, you tell me about the type of collateral you have or the means you’re going to have to pay me back, and I give you the time period in which I need my money back, and that’s pretty much it.”

Stan locked eyes with the red head and raised an eyebrow, “So… you’re gonna leave out the part about how I’m going to owe you a ton of interest when all’s said and done?” He tacked on. 

The red head shrugged his shoulders, “Hey, I have to make a living somehow too, right? So yes, you’re right. I charge 35% interest, but that’s the cheapest of any money-lender around here.” He assured, his expression unmoving. 

Stan crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow his way, “And I’m sure that’s not what all the rest of them are gonna tell me too, right?” 

The red head’s bright eyes gleamed and he laughed a genuine laugh for the first time since they had made their acquaintance. 

“You catch on quick. But here’s the thing, uh…”

“Stan.” He filled in, the red head nodding in approval. 

“Here’s the thing, Stan. How many other money lenders do you see around here right now?” The boy asked, pausing for a quick second to let Stan take in the scenery around him. The black haired boy was quick to realise that, in fact, there were no other ones around, at least not as far as he could notice with his quick glance.

“None.” Stan filled in. The red head nodded quickly and then resumed. 

“Exactly. None of them are going to come around here until about another hour from now, and I’m guessing that by that time you’ll have places to be, like knight….practice, or whatever you guys do. Is that true?” He questioned, his tone remaining firm. 

Stan smiled down at the money lender, knowing exactly where this was going already. 

“I feel like you’ve had this conversation a few times before.” Stan said bluntly, the red head smiling back, not about to acknowledge his comment. 

“And if I had to guess, I’d go so far as assuming that you’re probably missing your morning prayers right now, aren’t you?” The money lender added cockily.

Stan shook his head, his grin answering the question for itself. 

“So what you’re getting at is that I don’t have any other choice, do I?” Stan begged the question. 

“Yup,” An unfamiliar voice called from behind Stan’s shoulder. “He’s jewing you out. Kyle likes to think he has a monopoly on anyone who bothers to get up as early as we do ‘cause we got actual shit to do the rest of the day.” A lower class man, judging by his clothes and unkept appearance, with messy yellow-blond hair piped up as he made his way past Stan and up to the table, greeting the money lender with a wink, the red head rolling his eyes in return. 

“Kenny, can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?” Kyle added in an agitated tone. Kenny waved a dismissive hand. 

“Come on, there’s no way this guy actually needs the money. He just came here to flirt with you or something.” The blond explained plainly. The boy’s words caught Stan and Kyle off guard, the two of them looking at the blonde’s way with looks of surprise and shock. 

“Kenny, don’t talk about my customers like that. Not everyone’s fucking Cartman.” Kyle said angrily, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. 

Kenny laughed to himself, “I mean, you never know who he’s gonna fuck to get over you.” He added, taking advantage of the double entendre in Kyle’s sentence. “No but in all seriousness, you don’t actually need the money, do you?” 

Stan cocked an eyebrow at him, “Uh, yeah dude, I do. I need it to buy something pretty expensive, actually.” 

The peasant leaned his whole hip against the table next to Stan and cocked an eyebrow, suddenly interested in the life of the seemingly wealthy stranger who stood beside him. 

“What’s so expensive that your rich parents can’t fork out the money to buy for you?” Kenny questioned straightforwardly, Stan noticing Kyle smiling from the corner of his eye. 

The black haired boy rolled his eyes at the blond, his arms remaining crossed against his chest for dramatic effect. 

“First of all, not that it’s any of your business, but just because my parents are rich doesn’t mean I am.” The black haired boy clarified. “Maybe it’s hard to believe, but I’m the second born, so I don’t have a penny to my name.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but let out a smirk, shrugging in response to his statement, “It’s not that hard to believe.” 

Stan ignored the red head’s comment, and cleared his throat to continue. “Well anyways, yeah, that’s basically how it works. If you don’t get an inheritance, you’re pretty much fucked in terms of being able to provide for yourself, which is why I became this.” Stan explained as he pointed to the shield he had slung over his back, feeling oddly comfortable around these new people in this new place than he had in nearly any other part of the kingdom. 

Kenny nodded in approval, “Huh, I never really thought about how the rich world worked. Makes more sense now.” He deduced, turning his attention back to Kyle, that was, until he got shoved forward from hit to the back of the head. 

“What do you mean you don’t know how the rich world works? I’ve explained this shit to you a bunch of times.” A large man with feathery light brown hair, wearing a long white and gold tunic with a beautifully embroidered cincture tied around his middle interrupted abruptly. 

Once Stan recognised the clothes as being those of a Bishop, he knelt down before the man in respect, but more out of habit than anything else. 

The brunette chuckled at the raven haired boy’s chivalrous gesture, to which the blonde rolled his eyes and took Stan by the arm, lifting him back up. 

“Don’t give him the satisfaction.” Kenny noted. “I swear to god that’s the only reason he got into the church.” He said hotly. The Bishop crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He admitted plainly. “That, and that if I didn’t go this route, I’d be stuck being the king’s bitch, like this guy.” He explained to Kenny, pointing with his elbow at Stan for reference. 

Stan narrowed his eyes at the Bishop, not even sure if he should think of him as that. “Dude, just because you’re in the church doesn’t mean the king still doesn’t have power over you.” 

The Bishop shrugged again, “Pfft, barely. Maybe they teach you that in knight school to train you guys to be scared of him, but in the real world, we can basically do whatever we want.” The brunette pointed out. “All we have to say is, ‘God’s gonna smite you if you don’t…. yada yada yada’, and the guy’ll be down on his knees, scared that we’ll open up the gates of hell or some shit.” 

Stan raised one of his dark eyebrows high in disbelief. “Dude, that’s pretty fucked up.” 

Kenny let out a laugh as he wrapped an arm around the Bishop, “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Eric Cartman. He hates the Eric part though, so call him Cartman.” 

Cartman looked down at Kenny with a look of disapproval on his face, “I don’t hate the Eric part; it’s just you guys started calling me my last name and never stopped. Pisses me off that I let a peasant and a Jew choose what to call me.” He went on bitterly, Kyle rolling his eyes at the mention of his contribution to Cartman’s nickname. “Speaking of, get your poor ass hands off me; you probably have fleas or something.” The brunette tacked on bitterly, shaking himself free of Kenny’s light hold. The blonde released his arm, probably to avoid causing a fuss more than anything else. 

Stan couldn’t help but smile as he observed the scene, something more topsy turvy than anything he’d witnessed before. For his whole life, he thought there was only one way that the world worked. You lived with your class, you ate with your class, you fought, drank, married, spoke to, and only interacted with those who you deemed ‘equal’. But this? He was in the Jewish quarter speaking to, not only someone outside of his religion, but also a class of people who he had always deemed as simple, weak, and passive, Kenny showing none of these stereotypes to be true. And the Bishop, Cartman? The guy talked like a sailor and already seemed more blunt than anyone he'd ever met, but at the same time, he didn’t seem to treat Kyle or Kenny any worse because of their status, in fact, he seemed to be friends with them. It was all so… strange, but at the same time, refreshing. 

“Is it a lot to take in?” Kyle voice rang in Stan’s ears, knocking him out of his trance. The black haired boy chuckled to himself, amused at how well the money lender could read him already. 

“It’s… definitely more interesting than morning prayers.” He understated, the red head smiling in return. 

“You know, we still haven’t really even started the lending process and it’s already getting pretty late into the morning.” Kyle reminded him. Stan’s eyes went wide as he realised the severity of the red head’s words, looking into the sky and seeing the sun much higher than it had been before. 

“Oh shit, you’re right. Is there even time?” Stan questioned quickly. 

The red head hesitated as he ran the transaction over in his head, finally coming to a conclusion in the form of a head shake. 

“No, I don’t think so, not if you want to get back in good time.” He spelt out. “But listen, I’ll be here the same time tomorrow, so you can just come back then. Hopefully all these guys won’t be here again to distract us.” Kyle told Stan, pointing with his quill over to Kenny and Cartman who stood talking near the far corner of his table. 

Stan nodded, taking his hip off the table and standing up straight, getting ready for his quick departure. 

“Yeah sure, sounds good.” He declared. Stan stuck out his hand for the red head to shake, the man accepting it with some hesitation. 

“Is…everything okay?” Stan questioned, sensing Kyle’s uncertainty. 

The red head laughed to himself, “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just that this is the first time a knight’s ever shaken hands with me, that’s all.” He admitted, his eyes carrying a bit of disbelief. 

Stan laughed in return, “Well I guess I have to make a good impression, huh?” He said lightheartedly. Kyle grinned, releasing some of the tension in his hand. 

“Yup, I guess so.” He quipped. In response to the challenge, Stan shook his hand hard and firmly, trying to overemphasise all the aspects he learned made up a good shake. 

“How was that?” Stan questioned as he pulled away. 

Kyle wavered his hand in the air, “Eh… I’ve had better.” 

Stan shook his head playfully. “I guess I gotta do better tomorrow, then.” 

Kyle nodded and folded his hands back together on the table, “Yeah, you still have a chance to redeem yourself.” He declared. “See you tomorrow, Stan.” He finalised. 

Stan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, see you then. Bye, Kyle.” He concluded, forgetting to say goodbye to the others before he waltzed quickly away, beginning to meander his way through the crowd of people and back to the castle. 

It was strange; even though Stan knew he was probably going to get in trouble for his tardiness, the excitement of the morning seemed to be worth it, even though he didn’t get what he wanted to do accomplished. But no matter, there was still tomorrow, and for some reason, Stan couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face as he thought about the chance to come back to the new and bustling part of town, a chance to break free of the strict way of life he was prescribed at home, the only way that he ever knew existed, until today that was. 


	3. The Flip

The next morning came fast, and for reasons Stan couldn’t quite put a finger on, he was more excited than usual to start his day off with another adventure into the unfamiliar territory better known as the merchant’s quarter. 

The black haired boy rose early, dressed quickly, and gave his dog a quick pat on the back before he was about to head out, hoping to exit without anyone taking notice. But as his luck would have it, just as Stan reached for the handle to yank open the door and bolt out of there, his father’s voice echoed from the kitchen behind him. 

“Hey, hey, Stan, where are you going so early?” Randy questioned, leaning back on a wooden chair next to Stan’s mother, both of their faces laden with sleep deprivation, probably from staying up all night arguing. 

Stan let out a sigh, “Just out, dad.” He said bluntly, hoping to god they weren’t going to keep the inquiry going. 

“Out where?” His dark haired father pushed further, taking sudden interest in his son’s whereabouts. 

Stan let go of the handle and turned around slowly, both of his parents now with their eyes fixated on their son, awaiting an answer like a big secret was about to be revealed. 

“Goddammit,” The dark haired boy said under his breath, “Guys, it’s no big deal. I just need to go to a money-lender so I can have some cash to buy something. That’s it.” He finalised, hoping that was going to be the end of it, not having the energy at that time in the morning to come up with a lie fast enough. 

Sharon raised one of her light brown eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest, a curious expression crossing her face. 

“Now Stanley, you know those people charge a lot of interest.” She warned with a scrutinising tone. 

“Yeah mom, I know. Don’t worry about it; I got it figured out.” The black haired boy assured, giving his mother a weak smile that was lacking the confidence he was trying to portray. 

Sharon picked up her soft eyes and smiled back at her son, knowing that he was fully capable of the task, despite the gossip around Verhalten that would say otherwise. 

“Just out of curiosity, do you know the name of the person you’ll be getting a loan from? I might’ve heard of them since I used to live around there.” She genuinely wondered. 

Stan shook his head and grinned, “Mom, I really don’t think you’ll know him. He’s about my age.” Stan began. “His name is Kyle.” 

Sharon took the information and went over it in her head for a little while, really seeming to ponder the name. 

“You know, a long time ago I used to have a friend, Sheila Broflovski, and right before I left to come to this part of town to live here with your father, she had a son and named him Kyle. I wonder if that’s him.” She went on, her eyes trailing out the window in thought. 

Stan let out a quick laugh. “I kinda doubt it, but maybe if it ever comes up, I’ll ask for you.” He agreed, smiling back at his mother. “But seriously though, I have to get going.” The raven haired boy finalised, gripping the door handle in his second attempt to leave the house. 

“Wait! Stan, come on; aren’t you gonna tell us what you need the money for?” Randy questioned eagerly. 

Stan raised an eyebrow his dad’s way, “Um, no?” 

Randy rolled his eyes and dramatically crossed his arms over his chest, “Gall, Stan! What? You think since you got dubbed a knight you’re better than us now or something? Jesus Christ, Sharon, do you hear this?” The dark haired man complained, his eyes narrowing at his boy. 

“Randy, I think you’re overreacting.” Sharon stated, picking up a knitting needle and a blanket she was working on, paying little attention to the scene as it was beginning to unfold. 

“Me? Oh yeah, like I’m the one who’s overreacting.” He echoed in return. “No, you know what, Stan? Fine, don’t tell me. I don’t even care! Yeah, go out and buy whatever the hell you want, doesn’t make a difference to me.” He droned on, Stan only rolling his eyes in response. 

“Yeah…sure, dad.” 

After Stan had finally escaped, the inky haired boy began making his way to his destination, trying to shake away the thoughts from home and focus on the task he had to do, but for whatever reason, fully clearing his head didn’t come all that easily... 

As the dark haired boy pressed onward, he couldn’t help but feel like he dodged a bullet, not in terms of confessing to his family why he needed the money, but rather addressing a different topic that came up much more frequently: marriage. 

It was no surprise that a man in his mid-twenties would be questioned about his plans for the future, plans that involved, of course, a family he was expected to provide for and raise. Yet despite the constant pestering from his parents and the societal expectations that were held over him, Stan could honestly say that in all his life, he hadn’t yet met anyone he would have even considered as a potential life partner. It wasn’t that Stan was overly picky, but rather that no one seemed to stand out to him in a way that made him think ‘that’s the one for me’. The closest that he had ever come to being set up was with a girl from another noble family named Wendy Testaburger, a long-time neighbour of the Marsh’s. 

When Wendy and Stan were young, they were each other’s playmates, that was, whenever Stan was back in town from knight training, but according to the town, that was enough to make them perfect for each other. Sure, Stan thought Wendy was cute, and she was definitely smart, but to see her as anything more than a friend would have just felt too strange: she was practically a sister to him, and plus, she had bigger plans than being a stay-at-home housewife. Wendy was always an amazing writer, even better than Stan, and ever since she was a little girl, she always dreamed of becoming the first female advisor to the King, a dream that was nearly about to come true in a few months when she would come back from university: becoming a wife or a mother at this point would totally ruin all of her life’s work, and Stan was the last one who’d want to be responsible for that. Stan and Wendy’s only hope now was that their parents would lay off and let them chose what little they could of their own life paths, both of them knowing that that was an optimistic thing to hope for. 

Stan’s thoughts turned from dreariness to brightness as he made his way through the crowded merchant’s quarter in his search for a lone wooden table amidst a vast sea of people. Lucky for Stan, his money-lender in particular had fiery red hair that made him stand out from the crowd, allowing him to cautiously beeline his way to exactly where he was that time yesterday. 

“Ah, so the guy with the weak handshake came back.” Kyle geared, his bright green eyes glimmering in the early morning sunlight. 

Stan elevated a dark eyebrow his way, “Really? That’s what you remember me by?” He inquired, slightly disappointed by the greeting. 

The red head shook his head and leaned back on his chair, “No, I remember your name, Stan.” He assured, Stan’s dark blue eyes sparkling in return. 

"How am I supposed to forget someone who wears puffy-ass sleeves like that?” Kyle noted, pointing with his quill to Stan’s brightly coloured clothing that made him stand out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people wearing simple long robes. 

Stan couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, never really thinking about how ridiculous these clothes must have looked to an outsider. 

“Well, if it makes any difference, I don’t train in these: these are just my day clothes.” He assured. “But speaking of remembering, this is probably gonna sound like a stupid question, but my mom was wondering if you’re someone named Sheila's son. She thinks she remembers her having a son about my age and calling him Kyle, but I'm sure there are probably a ton of Sheila’s around here, so I kinda doubt it.” 

Kyle raised a red eyebrow his way and brought his arms around the back of his neck, giving him a look that had disbelief written all over it.

“Yeah, actually, my mom’s name is Sheila, and she’s the only one in our ghetto.” Kyle replied, “But I was under the impression that you came from a family of nobles?” Kyle questioned. 

Stan chuckled in response, “Yeah, well my dad was born one, but my mom grew up around here, so I guess that’s how she knows yours.” 

Kyle nodded, intrigued by the newfound information. “Huh, so you’re only half spoiled brat, then?” He prodded with an inerasable grin on his face. 

Stan rolled his eyes, “Sure, I guess if you wanna call it that.” He noted, allowing him to get away with that one. 

“What’s this about Stan being half poor?” An unexpected, yet now familiar voice rang out from behind. Just like yesterday, the blond and the brunette appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join Kyle, positioning themselves near his table so they could become part of the conversation. 

“Kenny; don’t you have some crops to tend to or something?” Kyle asked in a sassy tone Stan was growing accustomed to. 

Kenny rolled his violet eyes. “You know planting season’s done and I can’t grow anything for another couple weeks. That’s why I keep coming to you to get my loans.” He explained to everyone there. “Speaking of…” 

Kyle let out a long sigh as the blonde began a sentence he knew all too well. 

“Dude, can’t you see there was someone who came before you?” Kyle pointed out obviously, gesturing to Stan who stood directly in front of him. 

Kenny tilted his head and gave Kyle puppy dog eyes, batting his long eyelashes slowly for an even more dramatic effect. It was then that Stan noticed how sharp-looking he was for a peasant, well, for any guy in general. He was of smaller stature than Stan and Cartman, but probably about equal to Kyle, yet his muscles definitely surpassed the red head’s, undoubtedly due to his hard life as a farmer. That being said, it wasn’t hard for Stan to see how his boyish good looks could be an advantage for him in getting what he wanted in various aspects of his life, including, in part, negotiations. 

“Goddammit, Kenny, fine.” Kyle gave in, “Stan, do you mind if I take care of him first? It won’t be long, I promise.” The red head asked. Stan nodded, having confidence that Kyle would stay true to his word. 

“Yeah, that’s fine, dude.” He agreed. 

Kenny smiled broadly at Kyle and offered him a wink, a wink that Stan supposed was something the blonde did on the regular. 

“Aw, thanks Ky.” Kenny offered graciously. 

Kyle rolled his emerald eyes and stood up, pulling up the sacs of currency onto the table that he kept stowed away near his feet. 

“You know that I’m only handling you first because I already know what you want, right?” The red head reminded him without looking up from the table top, his hands hard at work preparing for the transaction. 

“You don’t need to make excuses, dude. It’s okay to admit that you find me too charming to refuse.” The blonde chirped, running his hands shamelessly through his crazy hair.  
Cartman rolled his sky blue eyes, “Oh get over yourself, poor boy. Kyle just treats you nice because he knows he can make a shit ton of money off you.” Eric reasoned, relaxing himself against Kyle’s table. 

After hearing Cartman’s accusatory words, Kenny turned towards Kyle and greeted him with soft eyes, “Kyle, that’s not true, is it?” He played along. Kyle picked up his eyes from his money and looked at Cartman with a curious expression. 

“Dude, you think I make a lot of money off him? Kenny takes forever to pay anyone back. I figured you of all people would know that.” The red head corrected, returning his eyes to his work. 

Cartman let out a long sigh, not able to come up with the right words to make another valid point. 

“So I guess that means it’s fair to say that we all think I’m just charming as fuck, huh?” The blonde peasant chimed in, but before anyone could say anything in return, the scene around them abruptly changed. 

A silence fell over the merchant’s quarter and everyone seemed to freeze, Kyle even halting his work in response to the sudden change in tide. Stan stood dumbfounded, not quite sure why the sudden change in atmosphere had taken place. He scanned the area to try to see what everyone was so nervous about, and soon enough, it became clear. 

Three tall, white-haired men came strolling down the centre of the bustling part of the quarter, everyone making way as they did, as though the Red Sea was parting just for them. But besides their commanding presence, probably the most troubling sign was that they appeared to be making a straight line directly towards the boys. 

As the men approached, Stan noticed that their clothes gave away their profession immediately. They wore long, purple and red robes with gold embroidery and large crosses that adorned their outfits, topped off with high hats that were perched proudly atop their balding heads. The men looked like they hadn’t smiled a day in their lives, and they didn’t look like they were in the mood to start. 

And just as they appeared they would, the men made their way over to Kyle’s table and positioned themselves beside Cartman, their fellow Bishop, the brunette giving a short bow in reverence to them, something Stan could easily sense that Cartman didn’t enjoy doing. 

“Good morning, sirs.” Cartman greeted formally, the words sounding so foreign and forced coming from his tongue.

The men nodded in approval, the tallest and oldest of them stepping forward. 

“Yes, good morning indeed.” He stated with a slightly disgusted tone for whatever reason. The man quickly scanned the immediate area with his eyes, stopping when he noticed the red head behind the table, dressed in tunic and all. 

“Sir Eric, is this Jew here giving you any trouble?” He questioned aloud, not showing any signs of respect for Kyle in the slightest. 

Kyle kept his mouth shut, but Stan could tell it was something he did with disdain, and understandably so. 

“Trouble? Oh, no trouble here. I was just explaining to this Jew that if he doesn’t accept our Lord Jesus Christ as his personal saviour that he won’t make it into the kingdom of heaven. You know, just the usual.” Cartman expelled casually, trying to keep his personal connection to Kyle as hidden at all costs. 

The tallest High Bishop nodded with approval at the brunette’s words and smiled. 

“Right, right, very good then. Alright, well, have a good day, Sir Eric.” He concluded after finishing his brief inquiry. The men turned around slowly and began to take their first initial steps towards the direction of a small local church, which was presumably why they were heading in the boys direction in the first place. Once the men were slightly more than ear distance away, Stan watched as everyone let out a collective sigh. 

“Do they come around here often?” The raven haired boy leaned in to ask Kyle in a whisper. 

Kyle shook his head, “No, but when they do, nothing good ever comes out of it.” He assured, still on edge. “Trust me.” 

Stan nodded, believing the red head’s words. But just as swiftly as the men departed for the chapel, they turned back around, venturing back again in the boy’s general direction. 

“Jesus Christ; what do they want now?” Cartman asked aloud, trying to sound pissed off to contrast his visible nervousness. 

The men sauntered back down the street with the widest grins known to man etched on their aged faces, meandering their way right back over to Kyle’s table. The men stood uncomfortably close to the red head, whispering to themselves before they brought their attention back to the small group again. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” The red head asked flatly, appearing unsure of the reason for their sudden return. Stan felt his hands grow cold and clammy out of nervousness for what he feared may happen to Kyle, for although he barely knew the red head, he could already tell that he was a decent person who didn’t deserve this kind of shady treatment he was getting from these guys who towered over him, trying to intimidate him in any way they could. Yet despite their posture and scowls, the money lender remained firm in his position, not giving them the satisfaction they wanted, keeping any feelings of fear that he may have been harbouring deep under the surface of his thick skin. 

The tallest of the men stepped forward and grinned, leaning his hand on the table. 

“My boy, do you see that chapel over there?” The old man questioned, his expression unreadable. 

Kyle nodded. “Yes.” 

The man raised a finger and continued, “And are you aware that this corridor is sectioned off into a Jewish and non-Jewish district?” He asked almost rhetorically.  
“Yes.” Kyle stated without any discernable emotion. 

“And,” He went on, “Are you aware of where the boundary is that separates the two districts?” 

Kyle nodded again. “It’s the face of the chapel. I’m directly behind it, though. I’ve been setting up my station here for years.” He assured. “With all due respect, I can assure you that I’m not crossing the boundary.” He declared boldly.

The three of the men snickered, the tallest still face to face with the red head. 

“Oh but my boy, I wouldn’t be too sure. You see, the face of the chapel is directly in line with the first leg of your table, see?” He gestured, pointing to the wooden stem. 

Kyle forced a laugh, “Yes, yes, I see the leg, but again, with all due respect, that’s not the front entrance to the church. That’s just the side door.” He pointed out.

The tallest man shrugged, “Well, that’s where I enter.” He noted. 

Kyle didn’t respond. The man continued to look down at him from where he stood, his expression becoming stranger by the second. A long silence hung in the air, making seconds feel like minutes, until finally he spoke. 

“Flip it.” He called out, spinning his head rapidly to Eric. 

“What?” The brunette called back. 

“Well if anyone has the strength left to do it, it would be you, Sir Eric.” He reasoned. “We are much too frail to perform these tasks in our age.” 

“I don’t understand…” 

The Bishop shook his head. “It is not that hard to grasp, Mr. Cartman. This man has positioned himself over the boundary, an act that is punishable by law, and he must be taught a lesson.” He told him directly. “Flip his table, Sir Eric.” 

Cartman’s face went blank, his mind in a state of confusion. 

“What seems to be the problem? Were you not trained to follow orders from your Eldermen?” He bellowed, making a small scene in the vicinity. “Now for the last time, do as I say, Eric.” He threatened, his dark eyes glossing over. 

Stan watched dumbfounded as Eric made his way over to Kyle’s table and grabbed a corner of it from underneath, giving Kyle a deeply apologetic look that held in it the weight of a thousand ‘I’m sorry’s. 

As instructed, the strong brunette raised his hands up, taking the table with them, and turned it sideways, knocking off everything that the table displayed: the bags of currency, his quills, his ink, his abacus… 

Peals of laughter cracked over the silenced area, the table flipping making as much of a scene as the church men anticipated it would. After their initial laughter had died down, one of the men turned Eric’s way and smiled. 

“Alright son, we have to make our way to the town centre: there’s a gathering at the cathedral we can’t be late for.” He reminded Eric, still in an obviously good mood. 

Eric nodded slowly, “Yes sirs, I’ll be right there.” He assured. The men began to walk away, and when they were a fair enough distance, Eric turned to Kyle and shook his head. 

“Kyle, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his head hung low. Kyle merely nodded and bit his lower lip, clearly not in the mood to speak; he could only direct his eyes to the mess on the ground that he would be responsible for sorting out. A few seconds later, Cartman was called again by his men and was forced to take off, leaving behind the results of his instructions. 

Kyle immediately bent down and began to pick everything up, Kenny joining in quickly to assist. Stan stood stunned for a moment before he too bent down and started to help the boys, picking up the heavy table and hoisting it back into position. 

“Stan, you don’t need to help with this.” Kyle said with an undertone of agitation in his voice. 

Stan shook his head, “No dude, I want to.” He assured him, dusting off the table. 

Kyle let out a long sigh, “No, it’s fine; we can sort this out.” He confirmed, “Just… come back tomorrow. I’ll be… reorganising this for a while.” He finished. 

Stan nodded, not sure what else to add. “Uh…yeah, sure. See you then.” 

Kyle didn’t bother to say goodbye as he walked away, and Stan could only speculate why. Even if Stan wasn’t directly working for the church, he was associated with it. He worshipped in it, he said prayers in it, he spoke the language of it… As far as Kyle was concerned, he was part of it, part of an institution that treated his people like garbage for no reason, so Stan could understand why he didn’t want him around, even to help. It was messed up to the highest degree, but sadly, there was little any one person could do to change that, and that was what was most messed up of all.


	4. A Deal

Another typical day should have breezed by. Everything was the same as it always was: morning mass, breakfast, weapons practice, of which Stan was lucky enough to borrow from a friend, some discussion of fighting strategies with more experienced knights, lunch, a bit of dancing practice, time spent on horseback, and finally dinner followed by nighttime prayers. Aside from his two year crusade, Stan had pretty much followed the same pattern for all of his life, and it was only until very recently that he even realised that that was the case. He had become so accustomed to the monotony that he never even considered what the world outside of it held. He was surrounded by fellow knights and aristocracy on a constant basis, so to imagine what life was like for someone outside of those classes was a completely foreign concept. 

But that was exactly what going to the merchant’s quarter did. He had only been there twice in his whole life, but he could easily count it as one of the most interesting, and heartbreaking, experiences he had endured in a long time. It was interesting of course because he got to see a world outside of his own, a world where peasants could talk to church figures and where not all church figures were corrupt, but on the other hand heartbreaking, because the reality was was that some of the highest ones were corrupt, and before that day, Stan had never experienced anything like it firsthand. 

His walk towards the merchant’s quarter that day was more solemn than the last few. What was most pressing on his mind was whether or not Kyle would still be in a difficult mood, of which he certainly understood, yet at the same time, just because he understood why that would be the case didn’t make it any less troubling. 

As he saw his booth in the distance, he gulped, sending his Adam’s apple running down his throat. He approached much more cautiously than he had before, not knowing what to anticipate from today’s transaction, but knowing that it would somehow be different than it would have had the men from his neck of the woods not arrived a day prior. 

He forced a nervous smile as he approached Kyle, the red head shooting one back that looked…almost genuine. 

“So you decided to come back?” He questioned, a tone of surprise in his voice. Stan glanced down at his table before he answered, observing that he did in fact have everything back to the way it was, almost as though nothing had taken place yesterday. 

“Ha, yeah. Is there some reason I shouldn’t have?” Stan wondered, standing over the table. Kyle laughed to himself,

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t: things haven’t exactly worked out in your favour the past few days.” He said honestly, scratching the back of his neck. 

Stan gave him a dismissive hand, “Nah, that’s fine. None of that was your fault anyways.” He assured, his forced smile becoming more authentic. “But today’s different than those other days: today I really do need the money for… the thing I needed to buy. There’s a knight trainer who’s coming all the way from Paris and he’ll be coming to do specialised weapons practice with us, so having money for…the thing I need is pretty much a must.” He clarified. 

Kyle nodded, “Wow, sounds pretty important.” He agreed. 

Stan nodded in return. “Yeah, it is.” 

The red head sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Well, that’s really too bad, then.” 

Stan’s eyebrow perked up, “Wait, what?” 

“Here,” Kyle gestured as he swung a stool up from under his table. “You might want to sit down for this.” 

Stan looked at the red head with a questionable expression, but took a seat anyway, not knowing what else to do. 

“Kyle, what’s this about?” He asked nervously, shoving his hands into the pockets of his puffy yellow and purple shirt. 

Kyle bit his lowered lip and leaned in, placing his elbows on the table, and looked up at Stan. 

“Listen, here’s the thing, Stan. I can’t lend you the money you want.” He said frankly, his gaze locked. 

Stan’s eyes widened, “...You’re kidding, right?” 

Kyle shook his head slowly, “No, unfortunately I’m not.” 

Stan took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the table in a panic, “What? Kyle, why?” He let out in a higher pitched voice than intended. 

“Look, dude,” Kyle began, his eyes seemingly full of sympathy. “You seem like a nice guy, but I’ve been meaning to tell you this since day one: I just didn’t really think you’d want me to say it with the other guys around. See, in order for me to lend out money, I have to have a guarantee that I’m going to get the money back somehow after a period of time, and you said it yourself: you don’t have a penny to your name.” He explained. “Take Kenny for example. Even though he’s not the wealthiest, when he comes to me for money, he doesn’t ask for much, and I also know that he’s a pretty good farmer, so I’ve never had problems with him paying me back when harvest season comes. But with you? You don’t make an income. And as much as I’d like to help you, I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair for me.” He announced. 

Stan took a deep breath to try to absorb the red head’s words, “And I bet that that’s the same answer I’ll get from any money lender around here?” 

Kyle nodded wordlessly, his green eyes appearing compassionate. 

Stan laughed despite himself, “Shit dude, what am I gonna do?” 

Kyle raised a red eyebrow at the question, “How about not go around breaking swords?” He suggested with a grin. 

Stan couldn’t help but reciprocate the smile, even though he knew he was the one at the butt end of the joke. 

“How’d you even hear about that?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Kenny.” Kyle said with a shrug. “The first thing you should know about him is that he knows everyone’s business, especially knights who are notorious for picking fights to show off their skills.” He clarified, raising an eyebrow his way.

Stan couldn’t do anything besides shake his head and let out a long sigh. He got a feeling that the money lender wasn’t overly impressed with the rep he gained for himself, not that Stan could say he was overly pleased with it either. 

“So now what?” Stan asked aloud after having a bit of time to think and coming up with nothing, his voice laden with the sound of defeat. 

“Honestly? I’m not really sure.” Kyle noted, “I really do wish I could help you, Stan. Like I said, you seem like a decent guy, despite what other people might say around the village.” The red head reminded him, Stan smiling weakly in return for the compliment. 

“Kyle, are you completely sure that there’s nothing I can do to get the money?” Stan asked one last time, most of the vigour long lost in his voice. “I’ll literally do anything.”

Stan’s final words caught Kyle’s attention. 

“Anything?” He repeated. 

“Yeah, dude. Anything.” Stan practically pleaded. 

Kyle scratched the red stubble on his chin and went quiet for a moment, clearly contemplating something in his head. 

“Can you write?” Kyle asked straightforwardly. 

“Yeah, of course.” Stan stated. 

“Can you write well?” Kyle prodded further. 

“Uh… well enough I guess?” 

Kyle's eyebrow perked up, “Are you a fast learner?” 

Stan could't help but shake his head, “Kyle, where are you going with this?” 

The red head waited a few seconds before letting out a deep breath and folding his hands on the table. 

“Listen, normally I wouldn’t offer this up to someone who’d have no idea what he’s doing, but I’m willing to make you a deal.” He pressed, his green eyes looking all business. Stan nodded,

“Oh my god, are you serious?” Stan questioned eagerly. 

Kyle laughed to himself, “Somehow, yes.” A few moments later, the money lender reached under the table and pulled up some tiny rolled up scrolls of parchment. “It’s going to be your job to copy and write out a bunch of these.” He proclaimed, handing a few of the small scrolls to Stan. The black haired boy unravelled the pieces of parchment to reveal something that made him incapable of doing anything else besides letting out a hard laugh. 

“You’re kidding, right?” He asked, looking dumbfounded at the intricate Semitic language script he held in his hands. 

Kyle shook his head. “Nope.” 

Stan’s eyes went wide. “Dude, when you asked if I knew how to write, I meant Latin, not Hebrew.” 

Kyle nodded, not seeming surprised. “See, that’s why I asked if you were a fast learner.” He clarified. “So normally, a _sofer_ , which is basically someone who trains all their life to write sacred texts, would write up stuff like this, but since our last forced evacuation, those people are on short supply. How I fit into all this is that a few years ago, I took it as one of my duties to copy out these scrolls so everyone can have a copy of them in their mezuzah.” He elaborated. 

“....So, I take it that’s what these are used for, then?” He assumed, placing the little scrolls back on Kyle’s table. 

The red head nodded, “Yeah, exactly. The scrolls take a long time to make, but when you go to sell them, they’re really expensive, so they’re a good way to make money on the side.” He explained further. “So your duty? You’re going to write up a bunch of these, doing the most careful copy work you’ve ever done in your life, and then I’ll take your work, sell them, and that’s how you’ll make back the money I’m willing to give you for your sword.” 

Stan ran his hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath as he tried to wrap his head around the new deal he was proposed with. 

“I mean… I guess I could do it, but I don’t want to mess it up: these sound pretty important.” He said with a degree of uncertainty. Immediately, the red head’s eyes softened and a small smile crept over his face, maybe due to the fact that it felt nice to hear a Christian call something important that Jews considered sacred. 

“Don’t worry about that. Firstly, once you’re done each scroll, I’ll send it to a rabbi to have him look over, and secondly, you won’t be going in this blindfolded: you’ll have a teacher.” 

Stan’s dark blue eyes looked up at Kyle’s, “Who?” He wondered. 

“Me.” Kyle shrugged. “I’ll teach you the basics for the first little while, the Hebrew alphabet and technical stuff like that, and then once I think you’re skilled enough to copy the scrolls out on your own, I’ll leave you to work independently.” He summarised, seeming confident in Stan’s abilities. 

“When are you gonna have time to teach me?” Stan wondered, trying to work out all the details before agreeing to something so serious. 

“Well, since I work during the day and have to be back inside the ghetto at sundown, it’ll have to be early in the morning. Very early in the morning.” He emphasised. 

Stan smiled as he shook his head, “Oh god; I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but...uh, yeah. I'll do it. You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

Kyle reciprocated a smile and stuck out his hand, “Pleasure doing business with you, then, Stan.” He finalised. 

Stan shook his hand in return, making sure the handshake was a strong one. “It’s Stan Marsh, by the way, you know, in case you ever needed that information to make our deal official or something.” 

Kyle nodded, “Kenny already told me that too, but you’re right; that'll be crucial information I'll need when I formalise our contract for the deal, which, actually, I’ll have to write up today and get you to sign tomorrow at our first session.” He explained, Stan nodding in agreement. A few seconds later, Kyle broke their handshake off to reach under his table, and when he brought his hands back up, they were no longer empty. 

“Well, like promised,” Kyle said with a huff as he placed the heavy bag of currency on the table and opened it, carefully taking out the silver pieces accordingly. Once he had what looked like a desired amount, he took the coins and wrapped them in a small, brown burlap bag and tied it up tight. 

“I think this should be enough to cover your sword.” He said with confidence, passing the bag onto him. 

Stan’s eyes lit up, “Oh my god, dude...” Stan said with gratitude, looking at the sack of cash. “I, I seriously can’t thank you enough.” 

Kyle grinned in response. “Well I'm not just giving you a handout here: you're going to have to work for it." He clarified. "Just make sure you kick that Parisian knight’s ass, okay?” 

Stan couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll do my best.” He assured. “I have to go now, but I’ll be here at the, err... dark of morning tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, well I hope so. I’m really trusting you here, Stan.” Kyle warned. 

Stan bowed his head, “I know you are. I promise I won’t let you down.” He affirmed. “I really do have to get going now, but I’ll see you then. Bye, Kyle.” He noted quickly after giving him one last handshake. 

“Bye, Stan.” Kyle stated. But right before the dark haired boy was about the turn away, Kyle beckoned him one last time. “Oh, and Stan? Your handshake's getting better.” 

Stan let out a laugh, “Good to know.” 

 

With that, Stan parted, winding his way through the quarter which was becoming increasingly crowded by the minute. Just as the dark haired boy was about to make a sharp turn at the church, he felt a tug on his arm from behind. He spun around quickly to see the person responsible for the unexpected action, the answer catching him by surprise. 

“Cartman?” Stan inquired, raising an eyebrow. The large brunette stood firmly in his formal clothing, and judging by the hard expression on his face, he looked like he had something important to say. 

“Dude, I really don’t have much time. Is there something you wanna tell me that can’t wait until tomorrow?” Stan wondered, feeling the pressure of time closing in around him. 

“Listen, all I wanted to tell you is not to get your hopes up too high, castleboy.” He warned. 

Stan quirked an eyebrow, “What are you talking about?” 

Cartman let out a sigh, "All I'm saying is, if you think you can get to know anything about Kyle outside of a business context, you're just fooling yourself." 

"So you're saying I can't be friends with the guy even if I wanted to?" Stan queried. Cartman chuckled to himself,

"Ha, you mean the type of friendship where you have to trash his table in front of the people above you or else you'll be discharged from your position? Yeah, that's a great way to build a bond with somebody."

Stan narrowed his eyes at the Bishop and shot him an accusatory glance. “What, are you some expert on the class system or something?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He affirmed, Stan still not looking convinced. “You know what? Just because you look like you’re gonna be so goddam stubborn, I’ll tell you why I know so well, but you better not repeat a word of what I’m going to say to anybody. Got it?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Stan agreed, his arms still crossed. “But make it quick.” 

Cartman rolled his eyes at the inky haired boy, “Jesus, fine. God, they got you guys on a pretty tight leash, huh?” He asked rhetorically, Stan ignoring the comment. “Anyways, basically all I wanted to say was that there are some pretty strict rules on who you can talk to and where you can go in this town based on your status, and I’m sure you know that, but here’s one you might not know. Ever been to Bathurst Street?” Cartman inquired, lowering his voice. 

Stan looked at Cartman with an air of surprise, “You mean the place where all the prostitutes are?” He affirmed, Cartman nodding. “Yeah, I think once or twice with my friends when we were younger to go drinking and shit. Why are you asking, though?” 

Cartman took a step closer to Stan, the conversation seemingly about to get more risqué. “Well, did you know that if church figures are caught there that they can get in a lot of trouble?” 

Stan couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Well yeah, that makes sense. No one wants to see their priest… you know…” He explained without words. 

“Yeah, okay, but I’m saying we’d get in trouble for even stepping foot in that area alone, even if you didn’t go there to get drunk off your ass or fuck some random whore.” Cartman clarified. 

“Why would you even go, then?” Stan asked, not seeing where he was going with this. 

“Because I…” He began, biting his lip for a brief second as though he was reconsidering finishing his story. “Because I’d go if I wanted to see my…mom.”  
Stan tilted his head to the side, sure he misheard, “Sorry, your what?” 

“My mom. I wasn’t born noble, Stan. My mom was a whore, and so when I was born, she dropped me on the doorstep of a church, hoping that somebody better would raise me, and sure enough, this family took me in, a family that I didn’t even know weren’t my real parents all my life up until a few years ago.” He explained in a low tone, eyes stern.

“You’re not joking, are you?” Stan made sure to clarify. 

Cartman narrowed his eyes at the black haired boy, “No; why would I joke about that?” 

“Okay, dude; sorry. I’ve just... never really heard about anyone in a situation like that.” He explained, trying to keep his voice down too amidst the busy area. 

“Well of course you wouldn’t have, because even if it did happen to someone, no one’s going to talk about it, which is exactly what happened to me. My adopted parents never told me; it took this weird old lady who always sat in the back at church to even get the information to me.” Cartman pointed out. “She’d been trying to tell that she had something important to say to me for years, but I always blew her off because I thought she was crazy, but then one day I finally let her talk, and… and she told me that she was there the day she saw my mom drop me off. She, uh… she even told me she knew where to find my mom.” Cartman continued, his sentence structure slowing as his expression became more and more downtrodden. 

“...And so did you go with her to Bathurst to see your mom?” Stan asked softly. 

Cartman nodded, “Yeah, I did. I could only see her for a second, though. I went in the brothel in disguise and saw her in there, serving drinks.” 

“But... how’d you know it was her if you’d never seen her before?” Stan pressed. 

Cartman laughed to himself before answering. “I just knew. She looked just like me. Well, except a girl, and older, and skinnier, obviously. But she knew too; right when I saw her, she lost it, but that was pretty much it. I haven’t been back since then.” 

“Shit, dude; that sucks.” Stan said plainly, looking up at Cartman. 

Cartman nodded, “Yup. Now the only reason I told you that was so that you know how it really is out there. Sure, there's some exceptions to the rule, like me and Kenny being friends for instance, but most of the world isn’t like that. There’s some pretty nasty people in this town, and you’ve only seen a small part of that.” Cartman reminded him, referring to the table flipping incident. “I just want to make sure you know what can happen before you go and make any stupid decisions.” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, I’ll... keep that in mind.” He agreed. “But Cartman, I seriously have to go now. See you, uh… whenever, I guess.” 

“Yup. See you around.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Btw, here's a definition you might need: Tithe Barn- a tithe barn was a type of barn used in much of northern Europe in the Middle Ages for storing rents and tithes — one tenth of a farm's produce which was given to the Church))

The next day, Stan awoke earlier than any time he could remember. His eyes were laden with sleep deprivation, mostly due to the pain in his ankle that kept him awake for most of the night. It was an accident caused by the young page Stan was instructing when the page’s sword nearly slid right out of his hands and landed right next to his Achilles tendon, luckily missing the area, but only by a centimetre or so. It’d been quite some time since Stan had felt lucky to just be alive, but yesterday was definitely one of those days. 

As he left his room, he glanced back at his new sword, taking it in as a mental reminder that that expensive piece of steel was the reason he was going where he was, and so early at that. Yet for whatever reason, instead of letting out a sigh as he thought about the hard work that laid ahead over the many weeks that would proceed, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling despite it all. 

It’d been quite some time since Stan had felt a natural bond with, well, anyone. He wouldn’t consider himself bad at making friends, but with the friends he did have, he felt he could never fully be himself around. He knew what the guys on his squadron were like, and if he wanted to be included in anything at all, he had to learn to adjust his behaviour so he could fit in. It was a task that he’d been doing his whole life, so long in fact, that he almost forgot what it was like to truly be himself, but that was what he felt like when he went to the merchant’s quarter, and in particular, when he spoke to Kyle. 

After making his way across town, the black haired boy finally limped is way over to Kyle’s table, which was in the place it always had been, and watched as the red head was in the final stages of setting it up, positioning two stools around it and centering the oil lamp he brought with him. 

“I’m glad those guys didn’t scare you into feeling like you had to move.” Stan noted as he watched the table sink into the grooves on the ground, grooves obviously made by years of being positioned in the exact same spot. 

“Ha, yeah, no way. I’m not letting some asshole who thinks that he can do whatever the hell he wants to me because he wears a cross on his chest dictate where I set up my table by a few inches. Fuck that.” He let out. The red head swung the stool around and motioned for Stan to sit, smiling to himself all the while. 

“But you know, not many people around here think the way I do. I don’t take shit from those guys, but most of us will just listen and follow orders from them to avoid causing any trouble.” He explained, scoffing to himself. “You’d think after being driven out of so many places, we’d catch on that this isn’t a method that works for us.” He concluded, letting out a sigh. “Anyway, enough about my problems. I know this is falling on deaf ears, but I had to get it out to someone, and well, you’re the only one awake to hear it.” 

Stan shook his head, “No, that’s fine, dude. I…honestly can’t even imagine what it’s like to have to deal with people treating you like crap for no reason, and not even being able to stand up for yourself. That’s seriously fucked up.” 

Kyle nodded, “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He affirmed. “But you’re not here to talk about this: you’re here to learn, and hopefully quick too. I don’t think either of us want to keep waking up this early for much longer.” 

Stan let out a yawn as if on cue, “Yeah; I can already tell the rest of today is going to be a battle between me and my eyelids.” 

Kyle grinned at the comparison. “Sounds pretty accurate.” He acknowledged. “Well, I guess that means we should get started, then. How about… we just start with the Hebrew alphabet, from the top?” He suggested, as he grabbed a burlap sack that was stored under the table. Kyle reached his hands into the bag and pulled out some supplies they’d need for their writing: a piece of parchment, a quill, and a container of black ink. The oil lamp that was resting on the table was dim, but it, along with what little moonlight was left in the early morning, would be just enough to illuminate their workspace. 

Kyle paused after he dipped the quill in the ink and hovered the feather over the parchment. “You know, I’ve actually never taught anyone from outside my community anything like this. I mean, teaching Jewish kids is one thing because they already have a lot of background on what they’re learning, but a Christian? I feel like you guys know next to nothing about us.” He told him honestly. The red head twirled the quill between his hands for a few seconds, raising a finger as he thought of a new point. “Actually... never mind; that’s a lie. I actually did teach a Christian some Hebrew once. A while ago, Cartman tried to have me teach him a few words, but we never got as far as writing them out.”

“Why’s that?” Stan wondered, crossing his arms across his chest as he listened. 

Kyle let out a sharp laugh, “Dude, you saw the type of people that associate with him. I couldn’t risk his job over them catching him spelling out some words. He tried to insist that he wouldn’t get caught, but I think he was being too optimistic. They’re already suspicious enough of him because they think he spends too much time around the poor and, well, me.” Kyle clarified. 

The red head raised his head up and looked directly into Stan’s line of sight, “You do know that if the aristocracy back at the castle found out you were doing this, you’d probably get in a lot of trouble, right?”

Stan nodded, “Yeah, I figured that much.” 

Kyle tilted his head slightly to the side, “And you’re still okay with that?” 

Stan bit his lower lip, “I mean… I’m not going to let anyone know what’s going on, and I doubt that any of my friends would come around here, especially this early in the morning.” Stan assured himself. 

“That’s a fair assumption.” Kyle agreed. “But I think you should also be aware that this whole exclusion thing isn’t just a one way street.” Kyle brought up. 

“…What do you mean by that?” Stan questioned. 

“I mean that my community probably won’t think too highly of me training you either, considering the rep that your people have.” He justified. 

Stan nodded, “Well, for both of our sakes, I hope we can keep this under wraps.” He declared. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” Kyle finished before letting out a sigh and returning his attention to the quill. “Now that that’s out of the way, we need to get started; there’s not much moonlight left.” The red head reminded him. “I guess I’ll start off with a brief introduction, then. So, in Hebrew there are two writing styles: print and cursive.” He indicated as he pointed accordingly to two letters on the parchment that were already written there. “The one you’ll see pretty much everyone writing down for everyday and personal use is the cursive style which, admittedly, I’m much better at, but that’s not the one you’ll be learning. I’ll be teaching you print, since that’s the one that’s used for the scrolls inside the mezuzah.” He specified, watching as Stan eyed the parchment apprehensively, scratching his head as he looked down at the letters that looked so different from the ones he was used to. 

“You don’t have to worry about getting it right away; I know it’ll take some time. I’m not expecting miracles here.” Kyle clarified. 

Stan let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, good. I was worried for a second that you’d expect me to have it that nice by today or something.” He said, pointing at the ornate looking piece of calligraphy on the sheet. 

“Come on, Stan; I’m not that unrealistic.” He assured. “But, I am expecting pretty near perfection, even though that’s more for your sake than mine. Each scroll has to be written perfectly, and if you make even one mistake, you have to scrap it and start all over again.” 

“What?!” Stan said in astonishment. “Dude, that’s insane.” 

Kyle nodded, “Yup. Making kosher scrolls is an art that people take really seriously.” He stated. “But threats aside, we need to get started on the actual writing.” He reminded him. “Here, look: what I wrote down is the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet: an _alef_. This is one of only a few that doesn’t really make a sound: the vowels underneath it usually dictate what it’s going to sound like, but we’ll get around to that later.” He assured, “It’s written in three strokes, like this,” He demonstrated as he drew another _alef_ next to the previous one. Once Kyle was done, he looked up at Stan and couldn’t help but notice that he seemed nervous again. 

The red head passed him the quill and smiled gently, “Don't worry; it’s not as hard as it looks. Just give it a try. Copy exactly what I did.” He urged, pushing the parchment towards him. 

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Stan held the feather in his hand and observed the _alef_ for a long time before he made contact with the parchment, attempting to do exactly as the red head did. Once he was finished, he looked at it and laughed to himself, the differences between his and Kyle’s being starkly obvious. 

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“Eh, not bad for your first try,” He assured Stan. “Trust me; with practice, you’ll get a lot better. I’m going to give you a copy of this parchment to take home so you can go over everything there, and hopefully come back better tomorrow.” 

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“Wait, that’s it for today?” Stan asked. 

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Kyle raised an eyebrow at the black haired boy, “What? No way; we just got started. I want to get at least get five or six letters down with you.” He stated. “I wasn’t playing around when I said you were going to work for this money.” 

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Stan couldn’t help but smile, “I get the feeling you don’t play around with much in life.” 

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Kyle reciprocated the smile, “I guess you could say that.” He agreed. “So, have I scared you already?” He asked cockily. 

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Stan couldn't help but laugh to himself, "Well, I can't say you're making me look forward to it... 

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“Well, it doesn't really make a difference to me whether or not you enjoy the process, does it?” He said with a smirk. “But don't worry; I'll try to make this as painless as possible. Anyways, I don’t want to waste any more time, so let’s just go on to the next letter.” 

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The boys pressed on as the sun gradually began to rise and the roosters began to sing their morning song. Little by little, the streets started to become full of clusters of people, and most of them didn’t bother to hide their estranged glances as they looked over to Kyle’s table at Stan, notably because of the contrast the bright colour of clothing brought to the sea of browns and greys, clothes that the inky haired boy slipped on thoughtlessly in the dark of the morning. 

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Once _alef, bet, vet, gimmel, daled_ and _hay_ were taught, Kyle set the quill down and let out a sigh. 

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“Okay; that’s going to be it for today. I don’t think either of us really want to go over any more.” Kyle said, taking his elbows off the table and putting back all of his equipment into a bag, all except their practice piece of parchment. 

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“A few things, though,” He noted as he looked up at Stan. “One, like I said earlier, I want you to go home and practice these. I need these to be ten times better by tomorrow. Do you think you can do that?” 

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Stan nodded hesitantly, “Uh... yeah, I think I can manage.” 

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Kyle raised an eyebrow, “Really? You don’t think that’s asking too much?” 

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Stan shrugged, “No,” He shrugged, a smile forming. “I had a pretty great teacher, after all.” 

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Kyle shook his head and tried to hold back his own smile, “Alright, well we’ll see how great of a teacher I am when you come back with these letters tomorrow as amazing as ever.” He proposed, handing the black haired boy the parchment. “Oh, and another thing. Remember how we were saying that this arrangement isn’t exactly something we want to publicise?” 

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Stan couldn’t help but laugh, “If you’re talking about the stares we were getting all morning because of what I’m wearing, don’t worry, I saw them too. I’ll make sure not to wear something this flashy tomorrow.” He promised. 

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“Yeah, I really hope so.” Kyle expressed, shooting him a warning glance before leaning back on his stool and rubbing his chin in a contemplative manner. “Huh, I really thought I had one more thing to add…” He dragged on. “Oh yeah; the contract. I drew it up last night.” He announced, reaching back into his bag and pulling out a full page written in the Hebrew script that Stan was trying to learn all morning, only a thousand times neater than his ever would be. 

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“Uh…dude, how am I even supposed to know what I’m signing?” He asked, scrolling his eyes over the arbitrary words. 

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Kyle laughed to himself, “I guess you’re not going to know, are you?” He said, pausing for a moment before taking his eyes off the sheet and moving them back to Stan. “Dude, I don’t really know what to tell you: I don’t even know how to read in Latin, let alone write it. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.” He concluded. 

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Stan knit his eyebrows together as he went over the idea in his mind. Blindly signing a contract that he’d never be able to read that dealt with a huge sum of money he owed didn’t really seem like the logical thing to do, but for some reason, it didn’t seem like an outrageous idea with Kyle. Maybe it was his intuition talking, but even though he hadn’t known Kyle for long, Stan felt like trusting the red head, even with something this important, wasn’t much of a stretch. He did already give him the money he desired, so if anything, the contract was more for Kyle’s sake, he could only assume. 

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After a little while longer, Stan picked up his eyes from the parchment and nodded, “...Okay; I’ll sign it.” 

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Kyle’s eyes opened wider than normal, “Oh, wow; that's great, then. Makes it a lot easier for me." He told him before pausing for a few seconds as he cocked his head to the side and looked at him curiously. "Are you usually this trusting with people you know this little?” 

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Stan laughed to himself as he scratched the back of his neck, “Actually…no, not really." He admitted. 

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Kyle chuckled to himself, “That's okay; neither am I, yet... here we are." He said as he raised his eyebrows despite himself, right before handing the quill over to Stan, “Here, sign your name there, but write small: I want you to leave space so you can sign it in Hebrew too once you learn all the letters.” 

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Stan gave a small nod as he took the pen and wrote neater than usual, demonstrating his writing skills in Latin to make up for what he lacked in Hebrew. Once the black haired boy was finished inscribing his full name, he stuck out his hand for a shake, ready to depart. 

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“I have to get back to the castle now, but I just wanted to say thanks again for taking your time out to do this for me, Kyle. It really means a lot.” Stan told him warmly. 

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Kyle nodded, “Well, once you’re done learning, you’ll be doing me a favour too, so it works out for both of us.” He reasoned. Kyle smirked when he saw that Stan still had his hand out, and instead of shaking it, he put his hand over top of it and set it back down on the table. “I think we’re past the point of handshakes now, dude.” Kyle declared, glancing up at him. 

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Stan smiled in return, “Well, I guess just bye, then. See you tomorrow.” He said with a wave, preparing his leave. Once the black haired boy stood up, he swung the stool back around to Kyle’s side of the table, folded up the practice sheet, put it in his bag, received a goodbye from Kyle in return, and then turned around to walk away, all the way back to reality where another day in his mundane life would begin. 

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Stan hobbled as best he could through the quarter, but just as he was about to leave the area, he felt a tap on the shoulder from behind. In a less surprised manner than the last, the dark haired boy turned around to see Kenny, sporting a smug look on his face. 

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“What’s that face for?” Stan inquired, the expression not going unnoticed. 

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“Oh, nothing.” He brushed off, the grin remaining. “But I have a better question for you, Sir Knight. What’s a guy like you doing around here in the dark of the morning, even before the working class is up?” 

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Stan let out a sigh, “I mean, not like it’s any of your business, but me and Kyle worked out something that I could do to get the money back that he loaned me, and I have to get here early to do it. That’s all.” Stan summarised. 

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“Ah, the money you needed because of the new sword you needed to buy?” The blond geared. 

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Stan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Goddammit…” He uttered. “Okay, but even if it was for that, why’d you have to go and tell everyone?”

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Kenny raised an eyebrow, “By everyone I assume you mean Kyle,” He began with, “And come on; don’t put this all on me. If I didn’t tell him, he would’ve eventually heard it from someone else. I didn’t make your rep: you did.” He accentuated. 

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Stan let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

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“But hey, don’t beat yourself up over it.” Kenny advised, placing a reassuring hand on Stan’s shoulder. “We all do stupid shit when we’re drunk. In fact, I’m willing to bet you’d actually be pretty fun to be around when you’re a little bit less than sober: I’d just have to make sure to keep you away from anyone you’d want to challenge to a duel, or whatever the hell you do.” He said with a grin.

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Stan couldn’t help but let out a laugh, admiring how the blond could take such an embarrassing moment for him and turn it into humour. 

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“Maybe one day I’ll have to take you up on that.” He proposed. “But like you said, you’d have to try to make sure I don’t do anything too stupid….again.” 

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Kenny couldn’t help but smile, “No promises, dude. I don’t exactly set the best examples when it comes to getting shitfaced. Usually it’s people like Cartman who have to try to stop me from hurting myself from jumping off or into shit.” 

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Stan raised an eyebrow, “Wait, you drink with Cartman?” 

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Kenny nodded, “Yeah, dude. I think you can already tell that he’s not like other Bishops. You know, I don’t even think he’s a Christian… I mean, not that I’m much of one either.” Kenny explained, smiling to himself and looking as though he was reminiscing. “But yeah, we go back a long way.” He told Stan.

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Kenny’s final words caught Stan’s attention. “Actually, I kinda wondering how you guys even met, all three of you.” 

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“Well, you’re in for a good story, then.” He said happily as he took a seat on the side of the street, gesturing with his hand for the raven haired boy to sit next to him. “How much time do you have?” He wondered. 

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“Uh…not too much, but I could spare a few minutes.” Stan made clear. Kenny nodded,

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“Okay, I’ll make it quick then.” He assured. “Well first off, me and Cartman go way back to when we were kids. We both went to the same chapel, but of course since he was rich he sat in the front and I sat in the back, so I didn’t see him much during the service. But one day, I went into the little kitchen area at the back of the church and caught him stuffing his bag full of those little flat wafers, the body of Christ or whatever they’re called, and instead of ratting him out, I covered the door for him and told him I’d be his lookout if he shared some with me.” Kenny went on, laughing to himself. “So we kinda bonded over becoming thieves, you could say. We became pretty close friends over a few years’ time, until we lost contact when he had to go to a bigger church downtown to do his Bishop training.” He explained. “Well, that is until one day years later.” He added on. 

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Stan let out a laugh, “That must’ve been weird to find out that a guy you stole from the church with was going to work for it.” 

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Kenny chuckled, “Well, once he told me, I made fun of him about that too. I told him he was probably just doing it to get more free wafers without all the work of sneaking them. I think he just rolled his eyes and shoved me or something, but I still bet that that must’ve been one of the main draws for a fatass like him.” He explained. “How are we doing on time, by the way?” 

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Stan raised his head and looked at the sun, noticing that it was slowly beginning to rise higher and higher in the sky. 

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“Well…we’re good for now, but not for much longer.” Stan answered. “But, if you start walking with me towards the castle, we can keep talking.” He suggested. 

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Kenny shrugged, “Yeah, sure; I need to go that way to get some barley from a vender anyways.” He noted. Both Stan and Kenny picked themselves up off the cobblestone roadside and began a brisk walk, Stan leading the way. 

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“But back to what I was saying before,” Kenny continued casually, “I didn’t hear anything from him for years until one night when he caught me sneaking around the tithe barn in our part of town, you know, since he was called in by the townspeople as an authority figure to try to figure out the ‘thievery issue’.” He said in quotes. “Why they needed someone else to talk to me through and couldn’t just have done it themselves, I still don’t get.” 

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Stan raised an eyebrow, “Wait, why were you sneaking around inside a tithe barn?” 

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Kenny shook his head, “Those were dark times, dude. I remember there was an early frost that year that killed the harvest we were counting on for food for months. I needed to get me and my family food somehow.” He explained. “I’m not proud of it, but there really wasn’t much else I could’ve done.” 

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Stan shook his head, “No dude, I’m not judging you or anything: you did what you had to to stay alive. I’ve never had to deal with anything even close to that, so I can’t say I wouldn’t consider taking things from there if it came to it.” Stan sympathised. 

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Kenny laughed harshly to himself, “Yeah, and I hope you never have to.” He declared. “But hey, on a lighter note, I got to meet back up with Cartman again.” He quipped. “...God, I remember that conversation like it was yesterday. The second he saw it was me all the townspeople were complaining about, he laughed and looked up at me and said, ‘So, you’re still stealing shit?’, and all I said back was ‘Oh, and you’re still fat?’” He recalled. “And when he just kinda smiled back, that was when I knew that he hadn’t changed.” 

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Stan couldn’t help but smile, not just from the story, but from how happy telling the story was making Kenny. 

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“So he didn’t punish you or anything?” Stan wondered. 

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Kenny shook his head, “Nope. All he told me was that I should try to make it less obvious somehow, maybe by going to other tithe barns in other parts of town so I didn’t drain that one too much. Stuff like that.” He finished, but not before giving a sideways glance to Stan. “And as for how he met Kyle, that’s pretty self-explanatory. Since me and Cartman started hanging around each other more again, he came with me one day to the quarter to get my loans from him, and well, the rest is history.” He said simply. 

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Stan nodded, but not without addressing what seemed to be the obvious. “But dude, Kyle was just okay with Cartman being a Bishop, you know, considering their track record with Jews?” Stan inquired, keeping up a swift pace on his way to the castle, despite his limp. 

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Kenny wavered his hand in the air, “Eh…not right away, that’s for sure. It took Kyle a bit to trust him, but one thing that helped was the arguments they got in. They’d go on and debate with each other for what seemed like forever, sometimes almost to the point where they looked like they were about to punch each other out if it got any more heated.” 

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Stan raised his eyebrows, “Jesus Christ... And _that’s_ how they became friends?” 

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Kenny let out a laugh, “Yeah, funny, isn’t it? Kyle’s weird like that, though: he actually likes getting into debates, not that he’d ever straight up admit it. It must give him a thrill or something.” He shrugged off before abruptly stopping. “Okay, well I’m gonna leave you here, but it was nice talking to you, dude.” 

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“Yeah, nice talking to you too.” He agreed. “See you around, Kenny.” He concluded with a closed mouth smile. 

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Kenny nodded and gave him a quick wave as he took off down a side street, but not before spinning around to ask one last thing. 

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“Wait, how much of a loan did you take out from Kyle?” The blond questioned from a short distance away. 

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Stan laughed, “Enough that I’ll probably be writing better Hebrew than Latin by the end of all this.” 

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Kenny smirked at the black haired boy’s response. “Well, lucky for you then, huh? Seeing as it’ll give you lots of time to get to know Kyle better.” He said with a wink. “Anyways, see ya!” He called out after spinning back around, not giving Stan a chance to rebuttal. 

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The black haired boy rolled his eyes at the statement and continued on his way to training, glad Kenny wasn't around to see the smile that stretched across his face, a smile he couldn't hide even if he tried.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment ! I love getting feedback ~ Thanks for reading thus far


	6. Chapter 6

As Stan marched over to the quarter he was becoming more and more acquainted with, he couldn’t help but notice that he was feeling lighter than ever. His training with the Parisian knight who had been there the past few days was going wonderfully, despite his mild injury. Stan impressed the experienced man with his swordsmanship skills, the knight having no idea of the black haired boy’s reckless past that may have tainted his impression of him. If all kept going as well as it was and word didn’t get around to the man about Stan’s family and habits, per se, Stan even had a chance of sitting at the head table with him at an upcoming banquet, which would of course be a great honour. 

The raven haired boy wore a broad smile as he confidently strode over to Kyle’s booth that seemed to look a little fuller than it had the day prior. Kyle hadn’t yet glanced up to see that it was Stan, but he assumed his presence based off of the sound of his footsteps alone, seeing as the quarter was all but deserted. The red head swung a stool from around back and placed it in front of the dark haired boy, seeming to focus more on polishing the silverware that cluttered the table. 

“…Want some help with that?” Stan questioned, noting the red head’s concentration on the metallic objects. Kyle shook his head, still not looking up. 

“No, it’s fine; I’m almost done.” He stated as he ran his cloth one more time over a candlestick holder. “There. Finished.” He said aloud as he admired his work, pushing the silver object to the far side of the table. Kyle reached underneath the table to pull up the bag with the writing supplies, and when he finally brought his head up and had a glance at Stan, he let out a sigh. 

“ _Dude_.” Kyle said as he gestured to his elaborate and puffy blue and yellow sleeves that were apparent even in the dim light of the oil lamp. 

“Ah goddammit…” Stan said to himself, realising his error immediately after it was addressed. “Shit, Kyle; I’m really sorry. I completely forgot. I had yesterday’s training on my mind and I didn’t even pay attention to what I was putting on when I woke up this morning...” 

Kyle let out a sharp laugh, “Well yeah, clearly not.” He noted, poking the sleeve with his quill. “This one’s even puffier than yesterday’s. Jesus, who decides the fashion in your part of the village?” He asked rhetorically. 

Stan bit his lower lip, “Dude, I am really sorry. I promise tomorrow I won’t let it happen again.” He assured. Kyle smiled to himself in return as he shook his head.

“Well, since there’s no way I can really be sure that you won’t, I have something that might help.” He declared as he pulled up a folded piece of material from under his stool. 

“Here. I know I’m shorter than you, but this should still fit.” He told the black haired boy as he handed over the cloth that was bound up by a simple cincture. 

Stan took the clothing from his hands, and while looking down at it, he shook his head. “Kyle, you don’t have to give me this. I’m sure I can find something at my house.” 

Kyle waved a dismissive hand Stan’s way, “Dude, it’s fine. I still have a few others at home. Plus, I’d rather have you wear that and not draw attention to ourselves than have it sit under my bed.” He assured. “Now go change behind that tree: I want to get started as soon as we can. I’m gonna teach you seven new letters today.” He explained. Stan looked down at the tunic one last time, a smile spreading over his face as he thought about the process that went into Kyle already having one ready for him under the table. 

“You didn’t think I’d remember, did you?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Kyle smirked in return, “Well, was I wrong?” 

Stan laughed. “Good point.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Come on; just go change.” 

With that, Stan got up and followed the orders, changing discreetly behind a pine that hid him from view. It felt odd at first to switch out of his tights and coloured pieces into something so plain and simple, but after slipping the fabric over his head, it became clear why it was the outfit of choice around this area. The cloth was neither too heavy nor too light, and although the cincture was a little smaller than the one he was used to tying around his waist, the ensemble was comfortable nonetheless. Once the tunic was on, he couldn’t help but notice the smell emitting from the clothes, one of warm beeswax candles, which is what he could only assume Kyle’s home must have smelt like. Stan thought it to be a comforting smell, not unlike how he felt around Kyle himself. 

Once he was finished dressing, Stan made his way back over to the table and took a seat, Kyle nodding in approval. 

“I think you’ll fit in a little bit better now.” The red head said, running his eyes up and down the newly dressed Stan, smiling to himself. “It’s funny; I never imagined doing business with a knight, let alone giving him my clothes to borrow.” 

Stan grinned in return, looking down at his new outfit, “So do you think I could pass for one of you guys?” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “There’s a lot more to being a Jew than wearing a brown robe, but learning how to read and write some Hebrew might be a way to help you get there. Speaking of…” He gestured as he pushed a fresh piece of parchment his way with some new letters on it, “Did you practice your writing, or did you forget to do that too?” 

“That,” Stan said as he took the quill out of Kyle’s hand, “I didn’t forget.” 

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “Show me, then.” 

Wordlessly, Stan brought the parchment closer to himself and let his penmanship do the talking. His letters were still not anywhere near Kyle’s level of delicacy, but there was visible improvement, and from the grin on Kyle’s face he was trying his best to hold back, Stan could see that his efforts didn’t go completely unnoticed. 

“So?” The dark haired boy asked. 

Kyle grabbed the sheet and observed it closely. After some time, he placed it back down on the table and looked back up at Stan. “Well it’s an improvement from yesterday for sure, but I still think you can do better.” 

Stan nodded accordingly, seeing as he didn’t actually practice as much as he had planned on. 

“Are we still okay to go onto the next letters, or do these need more work, then?” He wondered. 

Kyle shook his head, “No, they’re fine for now: we don’t need to waste our time going over them again. I was just going off your Latin, since I know you write so neatly in it that I figure in time with practice, you can get your Hebrew script looking pretty close to that level.” 

Stan chuckled, “Yeah; I’ll have the neatest Hebrew of all the Christians.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Mhm. The competition out there is stiff.” He said sarcastically before reaching to pull the quill out of Stan’s hand, letting out a long sigh, “Why is it with you that we can never just start working right when you get here?” 

“Because you make me change out of my clothes?” He grinned, Kyle holding back a smile in reaction to the statement. 

“You know, when I teach the kids, we get down to business right away, and they don’t give me smart ass answers to my questions either.” Kyle said, his green eyes looking vibrant in the dim light. 

“So you’re saying you like teaching them better?” Stan asked, giving him a crooked smile. 

Kyle broke his gaze and smirked, directing his attention towards the quill meeting the parchment. “Let’s just get started, okay?” He said, ignoring Stan’s question. The dark haired boy nodded, knowing that without Kyle having to say it, the question already answered itself. 

 

The lesson went off without a hitch, Stan even surprising himself with the rapidity at which he was learning the alphabet. Kyle really was a good teacher, undoubtedly due to the fact that he had a lot of experience, but also because of his teaching style, which was a mixture of direct, but at the same time affable. Stan knew that what he was being taught was difficult, especially due to the nature of what he was being taught for, but Kyle never made him feel overwhelmed, and despite the fact that he could be harsh, Stan knew that it was a harshness he needed to hear in order to improve. 

He left the session on time after Kyle cleared the table and prepared a burlap sack for him with some practice parchment and materials inside, and of course his set of clothes he would need to change back into before returning to the strict world of aristocracy.

Stan prepared to change out of the candle-scented clothes and back into his Christian attire, but it was when the dark haired boy reached into his bag to grab them that he noticed something that was not there before: two candle stick holders that were sitting at the bottom of the sack, the ones that Kyle had been cleaning as he arrived. The dark haired boy quickly changed and rushed back to the area, but when he got there, Kyle and his table had vanished. 

Stan looked back into his bag and bit his lower lip, not quite sure what to do. They were real silver, that was certain, and so therefore extremely valuable, but time was running out and he couldn’t wait for the red head to return. 

“...I guess I’ll come back tonight.” He told himself aloud, giving the area one more scan. For now, that was the best solution he could come up with, well, maybe not the best, but the only one that would allow him to get rid of the burden of possessing expensive pieces of collateral that Kyle most likely needed back sooner rather than later. 

 

Daylight faded quickly, and before Stan knew it, he was changing out of his clothing yet again and back into the tunic as he prepared to enter the merchant’s quarter. He knew it wasn’t be completely necessary to do so, but he wasn’t really a fan of being stared at every time he set foot in the area, so if he had to wear a ratty tunic to blend in, so be it. 

To Stan’s great surprise, the moment the black haired boy returned to where he was that morning, he couldn’t help but wonder if the rapture came and left him behind. 

“Huh?” Stan let out, scanning the area for any sign of life at all. 

No people. No tables. No…anything. 

“What the hell?” He asked, no one else around to hear his inquiry. 

The scene didn’t make any sense to him. It was as though he was there at 4AM, not just after the sun had set. The black haired boy scratched the back of his head as he tried to sort it out, no answer to the question coming to mind. But just as all hope of finding out, well, anything, seemed to be lost, Stan noticed a light in the distance, along with what seemed to be noise to accompany it. 

The dark haired boy was on a mission now, not only to return the candle sticks, but also to figure out exactly where the fuck everyone had gone off to. Stan marched with vigour over to the lighted place in the distance that was growing closer and closer as he strode quickly in its general direction, the noise becoming louder and louder with each step. Once he was in eardistance of the place, it was apparent that it was an establishment Stan was all too familiar with: a pub. 

Situated just on the border between the Jewish and Christian section of the quarter laid a rustic tavern that seemed to be bustling with people, people that Stan hoped had answers about the desertion of the entire area. 

The place itself was not unlike the many pubs Stan had entered in the past: brown bricked walls, a dirt floor, thatched roof, a giant fire place in the back, and of course a long bar counter that extended the whole back wall of the place, with people, mostly lower class Christians judging by their clothes, sitting on stools around the bar or in tables dispersed around the room. 

Stan’s first instinct was to order a pint of mead for himself and call off the investigation until tomorrow, but after shaking off that initial thought, he marched over to the back wall to ask the bartender for something other than a drink: he wanted answers. 

“Hey, hey! Dude, can I ask you a question?” Stan called out in a loud voice to the frail-looking blonde boy behind the counter to overpower the voices of the other patrons.

Stan’s words seemed to take the light haired boy by surprise, seeing as he nearly jumped when he heard his words. 

“Gah! Who’s that asking?!” The blonde asked, spinning around as he tried to find the one responsible for the inquiry. 

“Me,” Stan said in a louder voice, leaning in further to try to make himself more visible to the flustered man. “I was just wondering if you could tell me--”

“Hey! W-why aren’t you back inside your walls? Won’t you get in trouble for being here now? Wait, am _I_ going to get in trouble for even letting you come in?! Oh, Jesus!” The light haired boy cried out, nearly dropping the glass he was polishing in his hands. 

Stan backed himself away from the counter, the blonde’s reaction taking him off guard, “Woah, holy shit, dude; I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to ask you something...” 

“Don’t bother with Tweek. You won’t get much of a straight answer out of him about anything.” A familiar sounding voice rang out from behind. Stan turned around to see none other than Kenny, a blonde that made him much less anxious than the one he just encountered. 

“Oh, shit; Stan, it’s you!” Kenny said over the other voices as he slung an arm around the raven haired boy’s shoulder, holding a mug of mead in the other. “I didn’t recognise you without those crazy ass coloured tights you always wear.” 

Stan couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Yeah; they’re pretty over the top.” 

“So where’d you get this from anyways?” Kenny asked, pointing sloppily down at his get-up. 

Stan shook his head before giving an answer, already knowing Kenny would have something to say about it. “They’re Kyle’s, actually.”

Kenny let out a chuckle as he tightened his grasp around Stan’s shoulder and shook him lightly, “Ha! Of _course_ they are! Why didn’t I guess that right off the bat?”

Stan couldn't help but smirk, “Well, maybe you being drunk might be part of the reason.”

Kenny chuckled in return, “Well, I mean that might have _something_ to do with it.” He played along. “But wait, more important though, why’re you wearing Kyle’s robe?” 

Stan shook his head, “Never mind that; I’ll explain later. I need an answer to my question though, the one I was trying to ask…Tweek.” He said, recalling the frantic guy’s name.

Kenny nodded, making an attempt to sober himself up for a second as he focused his gaze on Stan’s serious face. 

“Okay; what’s the question?” He asked, pulling his arm away from the black haired boy’s shoulder to give him some space. 

“I just want to know where the hell everybody went.” Stan stated. “This place is always full of people, and now there’s…no one. Not one person.” 

Kenny nodded, “Well yeah, of course there isn’t anyone there tonight.” 

Stan gave Kenny a strange expression, “Why though?” 

“Dude, it’s their Sabbath. The Jews start closing up shop really fucking early today, and they won’t be here tomorrow any time during the day either.” Kenny said casually. 

“Huh…” Stan pondered to himself, “Kyle didn’t mention anything about it. I still would’ve come tomorrow morning thinking we had a lesson.” 

Kenny shrugged, “He probably figured that that was something you should’ve known.” He added simply. “Wait, now I have another question for you: why’d you come all the way back here anyways?” 

Wordlessly, Stan nudged Kenny with his elbow and directed his gaze downward into his sack, opening up his bag so only the two of them could see the shiny metal gleaming inside. 

“By accident Kyle put these in here, and all I wanted to do was return them.” Stan said in a quieter voice, trying not to attract too much attention their way. 

After the dark haired boy closed the sack, a few contemplative seconds followed, until suddenly, Stan had a light bulb moment. “Hey, wait: do you know anyone who knows where Kyle lives? Since I came all the way out here, I may as well at least try to take them to his house.”

Kenny couldn’t help but let out a hard laugh, “You’re not being serious, are you?” 

Stan shrugged, “Dude, why not? I’m already dressed the part. I wouldn’t be longer than 20 seconds, tops.” He assured. “All I’d do is drop them off and leave.” 

Kenny shook his head, an inerasable smile etched on his face. “You know, normally I’d just tell you that that’s such a fucking stupid idea and leave it at that, but I kinda want to hear the story of what Kyle’s reaction is gonna be when you show up at his doorstep on Sabbath night.” He said with a chuckle, “God this is gonna be good…” 

Stan rolled his eyes, “I think you’re making this seem like a way bigger deal than it is.” 

“And I think you’re being naïve as shit.” Kenny said, taking another sip of his mead before setting it down with a _thud_. “So do you still wanna know where he lives?” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, I do. Why, you actually know someone who knows how to get there?” 

Kenny nodded. "Yeah. Me." 

Stan cocked an eyebrow his way, " _You?_ " 

"Yup." 

Stan tilted his head to the side, "...And why would you know that?" 

Kenny merely let out a chuckle. "That's a story for another time." He said, picking up his glass and taking another sip. "But, if you are gonna go into the ghetto no matter what, I guess I may as well give you the right directions so you're not wandering around like a chicken with it's head cut off. But just so you know, I still don't think you should be going in there, dude. Even if it's for something harmless." 

Stan nodded, aware that Kenny had a point, but somehow... not allowing the logical part of his brain to overpower the part that was longing for the thrill of another crusade. "They won't even know I was there." 

Kenny shook his head, "...Alright." He sighed, setting down the glass once more. "But if Kyle asks how you know, say Tweek told you." 

“What?!” The frazzled voice said from behind the counter, having overheard Kenny’s discreet comment.

“Okay.” Stan said, not able to hold back a smile as he glanced over at the crazy haired blonde’s expression. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”


	7. Chapter 7

With Kenny’s instructions in mind, Stan departed from the tavern and began to make his way to the ghetto. The first part of his mission had been completed- to find out where the hell everybody went- but now he had to complete the second: to return the silverware to its rightful owner. On some level, Stan knew that this adventure wasn’t totally necessary; he could technically wait until Monday to return them to Kyle, but on another level, this gave the dark haired boy an excuse for an adventure, something he could never pass up. Ever since the completion of his last crusade, Stan had longed for something that could bring excitement or newness back to his life, and if it took a trip to a ghetto he wasn’t really supposed to enter to bring that excitement back, it was worth it. 

Stan stood at the entrance to a place he didn’t even know existed until recently, unsure of how to proceed. The entrance was but an unguarded opening to a bricked wall, and when the black haired boy peered inside, he couldn’t see much of, well, anything. 

Stan gulped as he stepped over the boundary and entered, holding his new blonde friend’s directions in his mind, Stan still wondering why Kenny had such a firm knowledge of where Kyle lived..

The black haired boy meandered his way through what looked like a typical peasant-style village, only much more compact. Tall buildings built side by side with narrow alleys separating them occasionally, upturned cobblestone roads, barrels lying on the side of the street, various animals wandering about…It looked pretty… normal. 

Yet what did separate the place from the rest was the atmosphere, at least on this night. Stan had never heard such quiet in all his life, nor had he seen such little light. As he walked through the alleys and past the homes, the noticed a common theme: two glowing candles that stood in the windows, producing the only light that was illuminating the whole house. Stan couldn’t help but feel a sense of serenity wash over him, his prior feelings of fear deserting his psyche as he made his way deeper and deeper into the ghetto.  
At last, he approached the destination he set out to find. From first glance, Stan noticed that it was a modest house, whitish grey in colour, but seemed to be more kept up than some of the others he had seen along the way. He glanced over to the front windows and noticed that, like the others, there were two candles glowing vibrantly, only these two candles were held in holders that looked… less than impressive, and of course, Stan knew why. 

The dark haired boy opened his bag and peered inside, confident now about his decision to come here this evening. The holders seemed to hold greater importance than he had originally thought, and seeing the common theme of light throughout the village only justified it further. 

With a nervous breath, Stan approached the front door, dressed in tunic and all, and gave a firm knock, a knock that came out much more confident than he felt.  
There was a pause as he waited for a response, but soon enough, the door swung open to reveal the dumbfounded face of a guy Stan had gotten to know quite well the past little while, only…wearing an expression he had never seen on him as of yet. 

“Stan?” Kyle whispered into the night, rubbing his eyes to make sure they weren’t deceiving him. A few seconds later, after getting over the initial shock and realising that his eyes were, in fact, working properly, he quickly exited his house and pressed the door closed behind him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He asked frantically, trying to keep his voice down as he shot Stan an accusatory glance. 

“Dude, before you freak out--”

“What? Before I freak out? Dude, you’re not _allowed_ to be here. At all. I thought I made it pretty goddam clear that there’s a boundary and neither of us can cross it!” He said in a huff. “Just because no one’s going to send you right to prison or something like they would if they found us on your side, doesn’t mean that you can get away with just waltzing in here without any consequences. Because there can be- believe me.” He told Stan in a sterner voice than he’d ever heard him use before. 

Stan gulped and bit his lower lip, realising just how right Kenny was about his naïveté. It was a big deal to Kyle. And Kyle was right: even if the consequences wouldn’t be as severe as they would be if a Jew entered the Christian realm unauthorised, there were still limits on who could go where. It was more of a matter of respect than anything, a respect that Stan, somewhat unknowingly, violated as a result of his actions. 

At that point, he knew it was of no use to come up with any counter argument, seeing as Kyle clearly wasn’t in the mood to hear it, so he simply handed over the bag to him, candlestick holders inside. 

“Uh...here,” He let out quietly as he passed it over, not making eye contact, “I… just wanted to give these back to you. You accidently put them in my bag, and I didn’t really feel right holding onto them. They seemed pretty expensive and… important.” Stan said as he brought his gaze to the backup candlestick holders that sat in Kyle’s front window. Kyle followed his gaze and let out a sigh, releasing some of his pent up anger as he exhaled. 

Wordlessly, the red head took hold of the bag, gripping it tightly in his hands. 

“…I’m glad they’re not lost, I guess. My mom would’ve killed me.” He said sourly, still not having forgiven Stan’s transgression. “And yeah, for the record, they are pretty important.” He emphasised, confirming Stan’s assumption, locking harsh eyes with the inky haired boy. 

Stan fell silent and looked down at his feet, not wanting to feel the sting of Kyle’s disciplinary stare. 

“Dude, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would be such a big deal.” He said honestly. 

The silence between them grew heavy as Kyle failed to respond for quite some time, Stan not able to begin to fathom the thought process that he was going through in his head. 

“Yeah, well…it is.” He finally let out. “But I guess---”

“Bubbe? Who’s at the door?” A female’s voice rang out from inside the house, cutting Kyle off mid-sentence. 

Kyle let out an annoyed breathe as he rolled his eyes, “It’s no one, Ma!” Kyle called back, returning his attention to Stan. “Anyways, I was going to say that---”

“Kyle; you’ve been out there for a while now. Why can’t you just tell us who it is?” The female voice said again. 

“Goddammit…” Kyle let out under his breathe. “See? Look what you did: now I’m going to have to lie to her just to get her to be quiet.”  
Kyle paused momentarily as he thought up a lie, scratching the patchy red hair on his chin as he thought. 

“It’s just… Yankel. He came by to give us back our candlestick holders. I accidently left them over near where his, uh, band was stationed today when I went over to hear them play.” Kyle made up, biting his lower lip, pausing to wait and see if his lie would work. 

“Oh; that was nice of him.” Kyle’s mother replied. Both Kyle and Stan collectively let out a sigh, glad the fib had presumably worked. 

Yet before either of them had a second more to think, the door swung open, revealing a stocky lady with the same bright red hair as Kyle’s. The red head’s eyes went wide as he glanced down at his mother, who was only a little shorter than he was. 

“Oh? So this is the boy who came to return them?” His mother asked, smiling down at Stan. “Well Yankel, I’m very glad you found them and brought them back to us. I don’t know what Kyle was thinking when he left them lying around. They’re a very important family heirloom.” She said, casting a disapproving gaze over to Kyle.

“Oh, it was nothing.” Stan laughed nervously. 

“No, no, it was definitely something! These are invaluable to us.” She assured. “How far did you have to come tonight to bring them here?” 

Stan gulped, having not anticipated a question and answer period. “Oh, uh…not too far. Just the next town over.” He assured, Kyle nodding in agreement. 

“Yeah, see mom? It’s not like he had to travel through the Promised Land or something.” Kyle said, alluding to a Torah reference. “But before you came out here, Yankel was just telling me about how he has to get home for Shabbat dinner with his family, so I don’t think we should keep him any later.” 

“...Uh, yeah, Kyle’s right: I really should be heading home now.” He insisted. 

Kyle’s mother shook her head of thick red hair, “Yankel, I’m sorry, but as a mother I can’t let you go back on the road alone at this time of night; it’s too dangerous.” 

Kyle laughed to himself, “Mom, I’m sure he can handle himself.” He understated, his mother completely unaware of Stan’s knight status. 

His mother continued to shake her head, “Don’t be rude, Kyle. Yankel, please, come in and join us for a while. You came all the way out here; it’s the least we can do.” She pressed. “I’m sure your family will understand.” 

Stan chuckled nervously, “No, really; it’s fine. Like Kyle said, I really do have to--”

“No, no! I insist!” The woman said intently. “Kyle, show him inside.” 

“But, Ma---”

“Kyle!” 

“Alright, alright!” He gave in, not having much of a choice. 

Stan’s eyes went wide as the red headed female entered, Kyle taking Stan aggressively by the arm and leading him in, but not before first stopping in the doorway, bringing his fingers to his mouth, giving them a kiss, and then touching the exterior of some box that decorated the doorframe….for whatever reason. Stan shook off the strangeness of the gesture and was reminded of something much stranger that was about to take place: entering the house of a Jewish family he had no right to be in. 

 

“Listen,” Kyle said with gritted teeth, closing the door behind him and pulling Stan towards him once his mother was out of sight. “You better not fuck this up. If you think I’m strict about not allowing Christians come into the ghetto, my mom is twenty times stricter. Just let me do most of the talking, and whatever you do, don’t say anything that would blow your cover. Got it?” 

Stan nodded, “…Yeah, sure.” He managed to squeak out, not able to wrap his head around how things escalated to this point so quickly. 

Kyle led him wordlessly through their home, Stan observing the interior of the house, interested in trying to note any differences between a home here and the other lower class ones he’d visited in the past. The boys first entered an open area that contained the kitchen and a large wooden table where the Shabbat candles sat aglow, Kyle’s mother having already changed the holders into their fancy ones Stan brought back. 

Like most homes, the floor was made of cold, compact dirt covered in thatch. The walls of Kyle’s house looked sturdier than ones Stan had seen in the past, probably due to the lack of gaps between the bricks and the fact that the filling between them was also still intact, giving the house a warmer feel than he expected. But the most prominent thing that Stan couldn’t help but notice was the soft smell of beeswax that filled the house, the same smell that clung to Kyle’s clothing from before- a smell that he was grateful for for its calming properties, properties which would hopefully get him through the charade he was going to have to put on for the rest of the night. 

Kyle dragged the black haired boy over to a seat at the table right next to him, presumably so he could monitor Stan’s answers from close proximity. Stan noticed that there were only two other members at the table he hadn’t met: an older, bearded man who wore a yarmulke atop his dark brown hair that was speckled with grey, most likely to be Kyle’s father, and a black, spiky haired boy who looked to be at least five or so years younger than Kyle and Stan, who Stan assumed to be his sibling or other close relative. 

“So Kyle, why don’t you introduce Yankel to everyone?” Kyle’s mother said as she returned from the kitchen with a large tin full of food in her hands that she set down on the table and started to dish out onto a plate in front of Stan. 

Kyle let out a sigh before turning to Stan as he began to gesture around the table, “Alright, well, this is my dad, and that’s my little brother Ike.” He said straightforwardly. Stan noticed that his mother was less than satisfied with the presentation, judging by the scornful look she was giving her eldest son. 

“Aren’t you going to mention that Ike plays instruments too?” His mother pressed, turning her gaze over from Kyle to her husband. “Gerald, Kyle told me that Yankel is part of a band from the next village over.” 

The dark haired man’s eyes lit up, “Really? That’s impressive. I know how much work Ike puts into practising for his band.” Kyle’s father praised. “Wait, which village is it you come from?”

“Oh, uh…” Stan began, trying to come up with something quick, recalling the names of towns he travelled through during his crusade with a large Jewish population. “…Kohlkopf.” He said uneasily, Kyle’s brother giving him a strange look.

“Sorry, I, uh… I’ve been on the road a lot recently; sometimes even my own town’s name slips my mind.” He laughed, trying to play off his momentary pause. 

Gerald chuckled in response, “No, that’s completely understandable. We all make silly mistakes like that sometimes.” He said with a smile. “So Kohlkopf, huh? That is pretty far. How long did it take your band to get here?” 

Stan kept his fake smile as he contemplated the question, interiorly trying hard to come up with something believable. “Well…it’s kind of hard to say because we stopped and played in so many places along the way.” He answered indirectly, watching as Kyle nodded his head from the side, Stan so far managing to survive the first round of questioning. 

“Oh my goodness; you must be exhausted.” His mother said with wide green eyes that matched Kyle’s. 

Stan smiled to himself, “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” 

Immediately after Stan agreed to her statement, Kyle’s mother pushed the plate of food even closer to the dark haired boy, “Well then you must be terribly hungry; please Yankel, take as much as you want. I don’t want you to leave here on an empty stomach with such a long road back ahead of you.” 

Stan eyed the unfamiliar food in front of him- something that looked like noodles and…raisins? he wasn’t quite sure, but what he did know is that he didn’t want to be impolite, nor did he want to blow his cover by refusing to eat the unusual food he was presented with, which meant that he was left with only really one option: trying the new dish. 

“Oh wow, thanks.” Stan said before having taken a bite. He knew all eyes were on him as he took his first forkful, feeling as though he was a food taster for the king. 

“You can be honest if you don’t like it. My mom’s kugel can taste pretty shitty sometimes.” Kyle’s younger brother spoke up for the first time. His mother’s eyes went wide as she turned her attention abruptly to her son. 

“Ike! Watch your mouth!” She warned, the spiky haired boy seemingly numb to her threats, seeing as his relaxed demeanor didn’t change in the slightest. 

“So?” Kyle asked as he quirked an eyebrow, Stan having just swallowed his first bite. At first, Stan wasn’t quite sure what to think. The appearance of the food was mediocre at best, but the taste was really quite the contrary. It was sweeter than he expected, and although it still wasn’t his favourite dish he had ever had, it was a nice, unexpected surprise, a surprise not unlike the ones he kept experiencing throughout this week. 

“...It’s actually really good. I like it a lot.” He said with a smile. 

“Would you say it’s the best kugel you’ve ever tasted?” Kyle asked in return, a wide grin across his face, already knowing the answer full well.  
Stan couldn’t help but smirk in response, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

 

The rest of the meal went off without a hitch, much to Stan and Kyle’s surprise. The Broflovskis allowed Stan to eat without answering any more questions, his mother convinced that he needed to build up his energy. The conversation was turned away from their fascination with their guest and back to what they presumably talked about on a regular basis, almost ignoring Stan’s presence altogether. Stan observed as Kyle’s mother brought up town gossip, his father brought up work, and how both of Kyle’s parents went on praising their youngest, who had apparently just made the decision to begin his medical training and would be on his way to becoming a doctor. Stan watched as the red head’s face took on a frown as he became more and more disinterested as time passed, while the smile on Ike’s face became larger and larger. Stan figured it must have been a fairly normal happening in their family, seeing as after enough time had elapsed, even Ike had had his fair share. 

“Alright, alright everybody; I think that’s enough about how great the profession I’ve chosen is. I think Kyle’s getting a little jealous of all attention he’s not getting tonight.” Ike teased with a grin from across the table. 

“Oh please; you think I’m not used to this by now?” Kyle asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Kyle, what are you saying?” His mother asked, genuinely looking taken aback by his statement.

Kyle couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Come on, mom; you can’t pretend like you give Ike and I the same treatment. This is how it’s always been, but it’s just something I learned to accept that a long time ago.” He explained. 

“That’s ridiculous! I love both of my boys exactly the same.” His mother defended, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Stan watched as Ike leaned forward towards Kyle, placing his elbow on the table as he began whisper to his older brother, “But you know, maybe you wouldn’t have that problem if you, oh, I don’t know, tried to take on something a little more meaningful in your life aside from just ripping off Christians?” 

“Goddammit, Ike,” Kyle let out, “Who even taught you how to write in the first place, huh? Actually, who taught this entire community how to write? Where do you think you’d be without my help?” Kyle said, becoming more agitated. 

“Boys, boys! Settle down!” Kyle’s mom intervened, watching as Kyle and Ike’s expressions became sterner. “We have a guest here tonight, and I don’t think Yankel wants to hear any of this.” 

“Your mother’s right. Can’t you guys just… not be at each other’s throats, at least for one night?” Gerald interjected, trying to act as the voice of reason to quell his hotheaded family. 

Seemingly reluctantly, Kyle and Ike backed away from each other and pressed their backs against their chairs in an attempt to stop from causing a scene. To Stan, it didn’t look like the boys were finished with their feelings of resentment, but rather that they would just save the argument for another time, possibly when their parents weren’t there to put a stop to it. 

After a somewhat awkward silence had begun to set it, Kyle’s father cleared his throat. 

“You know what would lighten the mood right now? How about if Ike and Yankel played some music for us together?” Kyle’s dark haired father suggested. 

Kyle’s mother’s expression turned fifty shades brighter upon hearing the proposition. 

“Oh that’s a wonderful idea! Ike, why don’t you go show Yankel where you keep your extra fiddle?” 

Ike raised his eyebrow Stan’s way before nodding to his mother, “Yeah, sure. Just… follow me.” He said, standing up and waving Stan over. 

“Fuck,” Stan heard Kyle murmur under his breath. Just as Stan was about to stand up, Kyle grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back down to earlevel with him, “You can play an instrument, right?” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, luckily. We had to learn a bunch of musical things as part of our chivalry training.” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Thank god…” He exhaled, some of his stress appearing to be leaving him, that was, until the red head’s eyes went wide as a new thought came to mind. 

“Wait, Stan!” Kyle said, pulling him back. “Dude, you won’t know how to play the same style of music as Ike.” 

Stan’s dark blue eyes opened even wider than Kyle’s, remembering the unique variety of music he heard being played the first day he went into the merchant’s quarter. “Shit, you’re right…” He whispered back, his mind buzzing. Kyle and Stan looked at each other, neither able to come up with a solution fast enough, and the attention they were drawing to themselves by whispering and looking worried as hell probably didn’t help their cause much either…

“Dude,” Ike’s voice called out from across the kitchen, breaking the two of them out of their trance. “Just come with me in here. I’ll show you where I keep them.” 

In order for Stan to keep up the charade, the dark haired boy had to get up and follow Kyle’s brother. Ike led him into another room of the house just off of the kitchen, a room that looked like it was mostly used for storage. Ike bent down and picked up two boxes off the ground, dusting one of them off before handing it to Stan. 

“Here,” He said as he passed the case towards him. “I haven’t played this one in a while, so you might have to tune it before you use it.” 

Stan took the case and nodded, “Yeah… sure. Thanks.” He said nervously, taking the fiddle and bow out of the case. Stan placed the instrument under his chin and focused his nervous energy on tuning rather than making conversation with the dark haired boy who seemed to be holding back a smile during the entire duration of Stan’s tuning process. 

“You sure you’re ok there, Yankel?” Ike said with an elevated eyebrow, obviously taking note of Stan’s uneasiness. 

Stan let out a fake laugh, “Yeah, everything’s fine, dude.” 

“Uh huh.” Ike said unconvinced as he leaned his hip against the nearby wall. “No, I was just wondering because you seem a little tense, but maybe that’s because you’re afraid of playing badly in front of my parents or something, right? Especially since fiddle might not be what you play primarily in your band.” 

Stan nodded, agreeing immediately with the excuse that was just handed to him. “Yeah, yeah; that’s what it is. I usually play the lute, and honestly, I haven’t even touched a fiddle in years.” He claimed. 

Ike smiled, “Yeah, it can be pretty hard to get the hang of something you aren’t too familiar with, especially if it’s been a while. And I’ll admit, my parents, and particularly my mom, can be pretty intimidating. You know, especially if you’re a Christian.” He stated boldly, holding a firm gaze with Stan. 

Stan felt his Adam’s apple run down his throat as he swallowed, feeling as though he was completely naked in that moment. 

“…How did you…?”

Ike laughed as he took his hip off of the door frame and walked over to Stan, “Relax, dude; I won’t tell them.” He assured, taking a seat in a nearby chair. The young dark haired boy motioned for Stan to pull up a chair and bring it close to him, so Stan obeyed, not knowing what else to do or what was going to come of this conversation. 

“What gave it away?” Stan whispered as he neared Kyle’s brother.

“Well, you didn’t kiss the mezuzah when you came in the house. That was a pretty amateur mistake to make.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the strange gesture that Kyle made as he entered the home. “Really? That’s all it took to blow my cover?” 

Ike laughed to himself, “No, come on: I’m not that observant. You blew your cover a while ago when you kept coming into the quarter up to Kyle’s booth wearing those bright ass clothes. Jesus did you stand out like a sore thumb.” Ike said honestly. Stan couldn’t help but grin, the cultural differences never failing to surprise him at just how stark they were. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to tell us apart from you guys.” Stan admitted, looking down at Kyle’s tunic that he was sporting. 

“Speaking of,” Ike said, picking his fiddle back up off the floor. “You do know that we probably play different styles of music, right?” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah; that’s what me and Kyle were talking about back before you called me over.”

“I figured, going off the scared shitless looks on your faces.” Ike said with a grin, the same grin he used to get under Kyle’s skin. “But in all seriousness, you don’t have to worry: just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” 

Stan bit his lower lip as he contemplated the task that was about to befall him, but realising that he didn’t have much else of a choice in the matter, nodded anyway.  
“…Okay. I guess I'll have to trust you on this...” He said apprehensively. 

“Yeah; I think that's pretty much the only choice you have.”

After having made their agreement, the young dark haired boy got up off his chair and approached Stan, offering him his arm to stand up with, the older black haired boy accepting the offer without thinking much of it besides Ike demonstrating some sort of chivalrous act. 

“And if I had to guess, you didn’t get that limp from a band-related injury, did you?” He pointed out, Stan now understanding Ike’s reason for his helpful gesture. 

“Oh, right,” Stan said, looking down at his ankle, almost forgetting his hobble caused by the mishap with the page. “Yeah… I can’t really say that happened from dropping a glockenspiel on it.” 

Ike quirked a curious eyebrow his way, “Can I ask how it really happened, Yankel, which I’m guessing isn’t your real name either, is it?” 

Stan laughed, “You're right, it’s not. My name’s actually Stan, and I’m a knight. And I got this cut because of a kid I was training who slipped up, and I took the brunt of it.” 

“Huh…I wouldn’t take Kyle as being the type of guy that would trust someone like you, considering how much you guys are involved with the gentry.” He admitted, shooting a sideways smile Stan’s way. “He must've found something pretty redeemable about you.” 

Stan couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, Ike’s words filling his body with a warm flush that he couldn’t quite understand. 

“Alright, you ready, Stan?” Ike asked, sliding the fiddle under his chin. 

“Ha, well, I guess as ready as I’ll ever be.” 

The boys re-entered the kitchen, both of them filled with a much stronger sense of comradery they had than before they departed the room together. Stan couldn’t help but notice Kyle raise an eyebrow his way as he walked by, most likely from seeing the raven haired boy in a much calmer state than before, when the red head probably figured he should be tenser if anything. 

Ike and Stan stood at the head of the table, fiddles perched underneath their chins, and with the nod of Ike’s head, they began to play. 

Ike started off slowly, giving Stan some space to slip in a few cords here and there, just trying to match his beat. Once Stan had matched him, Ike locked eyes with him and nodded, indicating that he was about to change up the pace. The young black haired boy dipped his fiddle and began to slide his bow more rapidly across the strings, Stan following suit. It didn’t take long before not only was their harmony in sync, and without Stan even realising it, he was adjusting to a whole new style of music; the same style he heard being played not too long ago in the quarter that he loved so much. 

Stan relaxed his shoulders and simply began to emulate the sounds Ike was making, keeping in mind the melody from the klezmer music he had heard previously as well, and before he knew it, he was playing almost as if that was the type of music he grew up hearing. Ike’s concentrated glance turned into a smile as he upped the ante yet again, getting his body involved as he moved with the fiddle, incorporating his whole body into the music, Stan unable to do anything more than allow himself to do the same, letting go of all his stored up fears he brought into the house with him. 

Once the boys were in full swing, Kyle’s parents were nothing less than charmed, both of them with wide smiles on their faces as the two presumably Jewish boys masterfully played their traditional music in one of the liveliest ways they had heard in a while. And while it would have been easy to focus on the loud music accompanied by the stomping of feet made by Broflovski parents that echoed around the room, Stan couldn’t help but funnel out all of that as he unconsciously really only cared about the reaction of one specific person in there. 

The fact that Stan broke the law by entering the ghetto that night and by doing so made Kyle upset wasn’t something he was proud of, so noticing out of the corner of his eye Kyle’s seemingly positive reaction to his and Ike’s performance based on a smile he was doing his best to hold back, gave Stan the feeling that he finally did something right that evening. 

After the little spectacle was over, and after much persistence on Stan’s part to convince Kyle’s mother that he really and truly was capable of making it home safely by himself, the dark haired boy found himself yet again standing at the front door alone with Kyle, ready to depart. 

Both boys let out a collective sigh as Kyle pressed the door closed behind him, the quiet of the night really seeming to set in once the loud Broflovski voices, most notably his mother’s, were silenced. 

“You know, that wasn’t close to as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Kyle admitted.

Stan couldn’t help but let out a relieved smile, “I was just thinking the same thing.” He agreed. “But there were some pretty close calls, though.” 

“ _Some_?” Kyle said in an exasperated tone, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d say pretty much the whole night was a close call, but somehow you managed to pull it off. You make a pretty convincing Jew, Yankel.” 

Stan grinned, feeling honoured on some level to have gone the whole evening without any major slip ups. 

“Well, I can’t take all the credit: your little brother helped me a lot in the music department.” He admitted, wondering what Kyle’s reaction would be. 

To Stan’s surprise, Kyle didn’t seem too shocked by his statement, “He knew who you were somehow already, didn’t he?” 

Stan quirked an eyebrow, “Yeah, he did actually. How’d you guess that?” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “The bastard knows everything, or at least he thinks he does, so that doesn’t surprise me. Plus, you have a face that’s hard to forget.” 

Stan’s ears couldn’t help but perk up, “I do?” 

There was a momentary pause between them as Kyle broke their gaze and changed his position, leaning himself against the doorframe and started to fiddle with his cincture. 

“…Yeah, mostly because you’re clean shaven and everyone around here has a beard.” Kyle brushed off. 

“…Oh, right.” Stan said, Kyle’s answer somewhat almost… disappointing him. 

Kyle stood there for a moment, looking as though he was contemplating adding something else, but never fully going through with it. Instead, Stan broke the silence with a yawn. 

“Dude, I really should get going though, you know, before I get invited to someone else’s Sabbath dinner and get forced to put on a show for them too.” He told Kyle with a smirk, the red head rolling his eyes in response. 

“Yeah, you wouldn't want to risk something like that happening twice in one night.” 

Stan gave a slow nod and scratched the back of his neck, letting out a slow breath before he spoke again, “Listen, Kyle; I’m really sorry for… everything, for me even coming here in the first place, and I’d totally understand if you wanted me to find a new teacher or something.” 

Kyle shook his head, “No, you don’t need to do that; I’ll still teach you. Actually, I wanted to finish saying what I was trying to tell you before you came inside, back when my mom interrupted.” He said, regaining eye contact with the raven haired boy. 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, sure, dude; go ahead.” 

“Well, firstly, I just wanted to say thank you for bringing the candlestick holders back at all. I know you could’ve easily just sold them to get what you needed to pay back your sword, and I would’ve never known how you got the money.” 

“Huh....” Stan said, cocking his head to the side, “Honestly... I didn’t even think about that. All I knew was that they seemed important to you and I just figured you needed them back.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, “Really? That thought didn’t cross your mind even once?” 

“Nope.” Stan said with a smile, shaking his head and wondering how he somehow missed something that seemed so obvious now. 

“Well that’s… good then.” Kyle said, his voice still holding a degree of disbelief. “But anyway, that wasn’t the main thing I wanted to say. What I was trying to tell you before was that even though what you did was wrong, I understand too that you're from a place where you never had any interaction with anyone from our community, so there really wasn’t any way that you could’ve known how serious any of this was.” He explained. “I know you didn’t come here intending to do anything… bad, per se, but you do realise now why I reacted the way I did, right?” 

Stan gave a strong nod, “Yeah, dude; I totally get it.” He assured. “And trust me; I promise I won’t come back here again, no matter what.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’d _never_ be allowed back in. With the right disguise and permission, I _could_ technically let you back in myself, that is, if I ever needed to.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow his way, “And what might that be on the grounds for?” 

Kyle shrugged, “Who knows? Maybe if my parents wanted to hear some quality klezmer music again.” He smiled. 

Stan couldn’t help but mirror his smile, glad that his error didn’t end a friendship that seemed to only be just beginning. 

“Well, if you guys are ever short a fiddler, feel free to drop my name in.” Stan added, Kyle rolling his eyes playfully in return. 

“Uh huh: for sure." He said with an eyeroll. "Goodnight, Stan.” Kyle said with a yawn, taking his hip off the doorframe as he prepared to head back inside. “I hope you manage to get back safely all the way to your village.” 

“Oh, yeah; it’ll be a while before I’m back home in… uh, where did I say I was from again?” 

“Kohlkopf.” 

“… Right, Kohlkopf.” He recalled with a grin, Kyle shaking his head. 

“But dude, seriously, you really do have to go. See you Monday, though.” 

“Yeah, see you then.” Stan confirmed. “Night, Kyle.” 

With that, Kyle flashed Stan a quick smile, brought his fingers to his mouth, kissed them, then brought them to his mezuzah before he headed inside, leaving Stan alone on his porch to wonder what he did to deserve Kyle's trust. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary (as they appear):
> 
> Romans 13:13- Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy
> 
> Spice Box- Spices, called besamim in Hebrew, often stored in an artistically decorative spice container in order to beautify and honor the Mitzvah, are handed around so that everyone can smell the fragrance. This is part of a ritual called the Havadalah, which is a ceremony that marks the symbolic end of Sabbath

The Saturday morning sunlight blazed through Stan’s open window with fury as it attempted to wake him from his shortened sleep. Even though he didn’t have to go all the way back to the next town over to get home, after he left the Broflovski house, he did have quite a ways to go across the village to return to his neck of the woods. The dark haired boy dressed quickly, for even though he didn’t have to be at morning mass quite as early today, his late night did cause him to be running later than usual. He threw on some dark green tights and a red and green shirt to match, the whole getup seeming stranger and stranger even to him the more time he spent on the other side of town. Stan grabbed his bag, his shield, and his sword and took off out of his room, barely even having time to shut the door behind him. 

Without so much as a glance in his parents’ direction, he bolted through the kitchen and out of the house, that was, until he heard a familiar laugh from within. The black haired boy couldn’t ignore the sound, a sound he hadn’t heard in what seemed like years, a sound that sounded like it came from…

“Wendy!” Stan cried out as he re-entered his home and caught a glimpse of the girl he’d known for so long talking to his parents, his mood suddenly becoming much brighter. The raven haired boy set down his equipment and approached his dark haired childhood friend, giving her a warm embrace as he pulled her close, Wendy wrapping her arms around the knight in return.

“Good thing I caught you when I did; I was about to leave if you didn’t wake up soon.” She said with a smile. 

“Wow, really? Yeah... I overslept a bit later than normal.” He admitted, running his hands through his dark, somewhat untidy hair that he wished he put a little more care into this morning. 

“It’s fine.” She dismissed, “Do you have a couple minutes?” 

Stan laughed to himself, knowing full well that the answer was ‘no’. 

“Yeah; I can spare a few.” 

The inky haired boy stepped back for a second, quickly eyeing her up and down, amazed as he realised how much she’d grown up from the little girl next door who he used to play with. The long haired noirette wore a purple and gold fitted dress that fell all the way to the floor, a corset holding her small frame in place, defining her waist even more than it already was. Stan was glad to see that despite spending so much time with the higher ups in society that her face remained makeupless and looked just as natural as he remembered it, her hazel eyes shining brightly without the need for anything to emphasise them. 

“You look good.” He told Wendy, watching as she gave him a sideways smirk in return for the compliment. 

“Well, thank you. So do you.” She said in return after having taken a quick look up and down at Stan herself.

It was then as the two of them stood in the centre of the kitchen that they both suddenly became hyper aware of where they were and who they were being watched by. Stan and Wendy turned their heads and observed the Marsh parents just sitting there watching with eager eyes as the two of them rekindled their friendship that had gone untouched since Wendy left for university some years ago. 

“Oh, don’t mind us.” Sharon spoke up, the smile on her face even broader than both Stan and Wendy’s combined, Stan knowing exactly why. As much as Stan loved his mother, he knew that there were certainly things he didn’t feel comfortable doing with her directly in earsight, especially when they involved talking to the girl both the Marshes and Testaburgers wanted to set Stan up with since the time before they were born. 

Wendy and Stan looked at each other with elevated eyebrows, both of them knowing precisely what was going on in Stan’s parent’s heads without either of them having to say a word, feeling their constant presence looming over them. 

“…How about we go to my room if we want to keep talking?” Stan asked in a quiet voice, looking over at the overly eager faces staring back at them. 

Wendy nodded almost immediately at the suggestion, “Yeah, sure; that sounds great.” 

As Stan picked his equipment back up and the two of them began to walk away, they couldn’t help but over hear one last remark from the Marsh parents, Randy’s comment not taking either of them by surprise. 

“Oh, ok; you guys have fun in there; we won’t bother you at all! Take _all_ the time you need.” Stan’s dad called from the living room, Stan pressing the door closed behind him, unable to respond with any other gesture than to pinch the bridge of his nose and shake his head. 

“Jesus Christ…” He let out, setting down his equipment on the floor near the door. “Sorry; you know how my dad can be.” 

Wendy laughed, taking a seat on Stan's bed, “Oh don’t worry, I remember. He’s definitely not someone who’s easy to forget.” 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He agreed, trying to shake off the suggestive connotations in words. Stan watched as Wendy’s eyes graced the expensive metal object on the floor next to his shield, the inky haired girl raising an eyebrow in response to her sighting. 

“Another new sword?” She asked. Stan scratched the back of his neck and grinned, having the sudden recollection that his sword flinging habit started quite a long time ago, even longer than he’d care to admit. 

“…I mean, at least I paid for this one myself… Kind of.” He defended weakly, Wendy rolling her eyes at her friend’s attempt to save his pride. 

“You know what? I’m not even going to ask.” She said, leaning back and positioning herself the wall. 

“...Yeah, it’s probably better that way.” Stan laughed. “So anyways, what have you been up to the past few years?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“A lot, really." She began. "Hmm...let’s see… Well, I just wrote my final exam last week, so that means I officially graduated, and that made me the first female student who's ever accomplished that.” 

Stan’s dark blue eyes went wide, “Wow, that’s awesome!” He praised, watching Wendy’s face light up. “So what’s the next step for you, then?” 

“Well, I have my inauguration ceremony pretty soon, meaning I get to go before the King and his court.” She explained. “It’s funny; I feel like I’ve been ready for this for a while already, since this is what I’ve been working towards for… basically my whole life.” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, I remember. You’ve been talking about this ever since we were kids.” Stan said, giving her a warm smile. “You really deserve this, dude.” 

Wendy shook her head as she thought to herself, “You know, Stan, you’re one of the only people who actually understands what all this means to me. All anyone else can ever say to me are things like, oh Wendy, you’re so pretty, so why aren’t you married yet? Oh Wendy, you know that if you get any older you won’t be able to have children, right? Wendy, where’s your husband?” She went on, her voice gradually becoming shriller as she was reminded of examples from her life, “...I’m so sick of it.” 

Stan let out a bitter laugh. “And I thought it was bad enough that my parents brought it up every once in a while...” 

“Yeah, well, consider yourself lucky." She said, shaking her head. “I just don’t get it. If anyone knew anything about me at all, they’d know that I’m finally getting the chance to do what I actually want with my life, and you’d think they should be glad for me.” She vented. “I mean, if I’m happy with my accomplishments, why can’t that be enough for them?” 

Stan picked up his eyes and met hers, “Wendy, it _is_ enough. Look, I know this is easier said than done, but just… try not to worry about what everybody else thinks. You know what’s best for you, and that’s all that really matters, right?” 

Wendy gave the black haired boy a slow nod, “Yeah, I guess so. That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself of too.” 

Stan flashed her a gentle smile, but before getting the chance to speak again, he was abruptly cut off by the last person he wanted to see or hear in that moment. 

“Hey Stan; you just got a letter that came in from the consulate.” Randy said through the closed door. 

“Huh?” Stan let out, quirking an estranged eyebrow at Wendy, the dark haired girl shrugging in response. “Dad, just leave it under outside the door or something.” 

“Well… okay, but I kind of want you to read it now, while Wendy’s still here.” 

Stan cocked his head to the side, “…Why?” 

“Because there _could_ be something in it that has to do with her...” Randy dragged on. 

“Wait…Did you already read it?”

“Well, uh…” 

“ _Dad_ , that’s my mail! You can’t just open my personal stuff without asking me first!” 

“Well… Jesus Christ, Stan! Whose house do you live in, huh? If it shows up here, I have just as much right to open it as you do.” He defended. 

Stan raised an eyebrow high, unable to cope with his dad’s stupidity. “Um… _what?_ No, actually, you don’t.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I know how it works, Stan.” Randy went on, Stan’s patience wearing thinner by the second. 

“…Maybe you should just let him in.” Wendy suggested, noticing that the whole behind the door way of arguing wasn’t exactly he best way of handling the situation. 

“Goddammit…” Stan whispered under his breath, shaking his head and looking at the doorframe. “Fine; Dad, you can come in and give me my letter.” He called through the door. 

Less than a few seconds later, Randy had already begun to open the door and show himself inside. The dark haired father approached the bed where Stan and Wendy were sitting and handed the important looking scroll to his son, eagerness etched all over his face, of course due to having already read the contents of the scroll.  
Stan took his mail out of his father’s hands with an eyeroll, not impressed, but also not overly surprised either by his doltish behaviour. 

“So, what’s it say?” Randy asked as he hovered over Stan from behind, pretending as if he didn’t know. The dark haired boy ignored his comment and simply unrolled the scroll for Wendy and him to see, clearing his throat before he began to read it aloud. 

“ _Dear Sir Stanley Marsh, Sir Vincent Marchand_ , that’s a knight from Paris who we trained with,” Stan filled Wendy in, “… _has observed exceptional performance from you this past training session. In recognition of your outstanding achievements, he would like to cordially invite you to an evening dinner party being served in his honour as one of the dignified guests at the Verhalten Cabinet Chamber Hall Banquet. This event is to be held on the fourteenth day of the sixth month_ …” Stan read aloud, reading the rest to himself of which merely pertained to some other details regarding the event. Once he picked his eyes back up from the letter, he watched as Wendy gave him a nod of approval, whereas his parents looked at Stan as though he had just received some sort of medal of honour. 

“Congrats, Stan.” Wendy offered, giving him a closed mouth smile, Stan flashing one back in response. 

Stan took a few seconds to himself, rereading the scroll and shaking his head, having trouble realising that the words written there pertained to, well, him. 

“You know, I kind of always hoped something like this might happen, but I never actually thought it would, at least not to me...” 

Wendy quirked an eyebrow at the knight, “What made you think something like this could never happen to you?” 

Stan shook his head despite himself, “Because, dude; it’s me. Important stuff like this just….doesn’t. Not ever.” 

“Well, until now.” She corrected, bringing her finger down and pointing to his name at the top of the scroll. 

But with all nice moments that took place in the Marsh household, Randy had to step in and do something to spoil them, this occasion being no different. 

“Hey Stan, you forgot to read the last part.” His father chimed in, directing his finger to the bottom of the scroll. 

Stan raised an eyebrow Randy’s way, “No, I read it. It’s just talking about the specifics for the gala.” 

“Yeah, so what’s that line say?” His dark haired father asked. Stan let out an annoyed breath as he redirected his eyes to the specific sentence fragment his father was indicating, the black haired boy finally understanding the real reason for his parent’s excitement. 

“…You mean the part about how I’m allowed to bring someone as my guest?” Stan clarified. 

“Yeah, yeah that.” Randy said happily, flashing his eyes back and forth between Stan and Wendy, making his desire more than obvious. 

Stan rolled his eyes, not needing his father to make a scene about the whole thing in order for him to ask the future King’s advisor to be his date. 

Stan shook his head and let out a laugh, his dad pretty much having already asked the question for his son. “So; what do you think?” He asked simply, trying to minimalise the awkwardness as much as he could. 

Wendy cleared her throat, feeling the pressure of the Marsh parents as they hovered around over like vultures, the apologetic look in Stan’s eyes being the only redeemable quality of that moment. 

“Well… You know I’d like to go with you---”

“Oh Wendy that’s wonderful!” Sharon butted in from Stan’s doorway, not allowing the inky haired girl to finish her statement. “I can’t wait to let your parents in on the good news! They’ll be over the moon!” The brunette cheered, Wendy giving her an uneasy smile. 

“Mrs. Marsh, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. I was just going to say that---”

“So Sharon, who do you think’ll be more surprised? Stephen or Jimbo?” Randy went on, ignoring Wendy’s comment just as his wife did. 

“Why would you care what Stephen Stotch thinks about any of this?” Sharon asked, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Because Sharon! That bastard keeps saying that they’ll find a wife for Butters before we find one for Stan. But this’ll show him, that’s for sure.” 

Sharon couldn’t do anything else besides roll her eyes, “Really Randy? That’s the first thing you think of?” 

Randy’s mouth dropped open as it formed an ‘o’ shape, a shape that signaled his ‘isn’t it obvious?’ expression. “Uh… yeah! That asshole’s gonna owe me thirty shillings if this all goes right.” 

“You put a bet on if our son is going to be married before his?!” 

Stan and Wendy looked at each other with wide eyes, both of them in the same state of bewilderment, suddenly realising just how bad the situation really was. 

“Um… _excuse me?_ You guys have to be kidding me right now...” Stan expressed, even more alarmed by their intrusiveness than normal. “Are you guys actually serious? You’re _seriously_ talking about this? Like Jesus Christ, you guys are talking about your idea of our marriage right here, right in front of us!” 

Randy let out a scoff, “Well Jesus, Stan; you’re acting like it’s a bad thing.” His father said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Uh…Because it _is?_ ” 

Randy didn’t do anything other than roll his eyes at his son’s response, “Yeah, think whatever you want, Stan. You just don’t understand how important this is ‘cause you’re too busy playing with your goddam swords all day.” 

“What?!” Stan let out in frustration. 

“…Randy, maybe we should talk about this somewhere else…” Sharon interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder. Stan’s father let out a scoff,

“Yeah, maybe we should. Seems like we’re not gonna get much said around here without being yelled at by our own son.” Randy said with disdain, taking his wife by the hand and heading towards the door. Once the door was shut behind him, both Wendy and Stan shook their heads, Stan pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to quell his frustration. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…I honestly can’t believe how stupid they are sometimes.”

Wendy let out a sigh, “Well, that’s parents from Verhalten for you.” 

After taking a few moments for both of them to regain their rational thinking processes, Stan brought his eyes over to Wendy and smirked.

“The banquet is on the same day as your inauguration ceremony, isn’t it?” 

Wendy sighed, “That wasn’t too hard to figure out, was it?” 

“Nope.” Stan said, shaking his head. “But the real question is, how are we gonna break it to our parents?” 

Wendy rolled her hazel eyes, “Oh, you mean the part about how we’re not actually going through with the wedding they’re probably already planning for next month?” 

Stan nodded, “Ha, yeah, that.” 

Wendy couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “Well, I guess we’ll have to break it to them slowly. Maybe we can start off by saying that we’re delaying it by a year or two.” 

Stan shrugged, “Yeah, and if we keep that up for a few years after that, they might eventually give up.” 

Wendy quirked an eyebrow Stan’s way, “Really? You actually think they’ll ever give up?” 

Stan grinned, a morbid thought coming to mind. “Well… maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll get the plague and die before then.” 

“Stan!” Wendy cried out, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” The dark haired boy said with a smirk. 

Wendy rolled her eyes for what felt like the thirtieth time that morning. “Well, I guess only time will tell. And actually, speaking of time, I really need to get going to the palace: I was only going to stop by to say hi before… all of this happened.” 

Stan’s eyes went wide, “Oh, you’re right: I’m gonna be late too. But actually, I’m going that way anyways, so I’ll walk with you there.” 

“...You sure you want to do that? They might throw flower petals in front of us.” Wendy joked. 

“…Maybe we should take the back allies, then. You know, just in case.” 

 

After departing from Wendy, his day full of training could begin, a day that seemed to last longer than any Stan could remember in his recent past. Some of the guys, including Craig, Clyde, and Token, planned on heading over to a local pub in the upscale part of town near the castle for a pint or two, where, of course, all drinks were complementary for the knights who frequented there, but Stan already knew from experience that the event wasn’t exactly what he needed to wind down. Sure, he’d gone out with them in the past, not having really much else of a choice in terms of drinking companions, but more times than not, he ended up wishing that he’d stayed home instead, knowing that his presence was never fully appreciated within that group. 

In the past, an outing with Craig’s gang would have been his only choice if he wanted to do something other than just return home, but now Stan had other options, one of them coming to mind almost immediately: the bar in the merchant’s quarter. Without putting much thought into it, Stan took off for that now familiar part of town, not bothering to change his clothes in order to fit in this time, hoping the candles and oil lamps would be dim enough where his bright colours wouldn’t conjure up too much attention. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was hoping to get out of the night, but he couldn’t not find himself hoping at least on some level that someone he knew might be there, knowing full well that that was probably just wishful thinking. But either way, Stan knew that whatever he would experience there would be ten times better than what he would get out of staying put in his part of town he knew all too well. 

In almost no time at all, Stan arrived the far end of town, catching a glimpse of the tavern he merely discovered yesterday as he made his way down the road. When the raven haired boy reached his destination, he tugged open the door and entered, noticing that the scene was almost, if not more, lively than it was the night before. The difference today though was that there seemed to be a vaster array of people from all walks of life. For once, Jews and Christians sat together and shared in conversation, the scene making Stan smile to himself as he observed the mixture of tunics and peasant clothes that filled the bar. 

But of the whole sea of faces that surrounded him, he couldn’t help but notice two that stood out from the crowd: a brunette and a blonde whose faces he could recognise in an instant, despite the brunette’s less than usual getup. It was clear as to why the Bishop tried to conceal his identity, but it was still amusing to him to see Cartman in such ratty clothes nonetheless, Stan thinking that that must have been how Kyle felt when he first saw him in his tunic. 

The knight took his first steps inside and made his way over to the bar table at the back of the room, taking an empty seat beside Kenny as he made his way into their conversation. 

“Nice outfit you got there, John the Baptist.” Stan said as he looked Eric’s way. Cartman rolled his eyes at the comment, almost looking as though he was trying to repress a smile. 

“Huh, so they actually let you off your leash tonight?” Eric countered. 

Kenny couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Aw, look; my two favourite rich people getting along so well.” The blonde said sarcastically, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders, appearing to already be under the influence of at least some alcohol. “But hey, it’s good to see you, Stan. I’m just glad that you’re still alive, dude.” 

Cartman quirked an eyebrow Kenny’s way, “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

“Ha! You didn’t hear? Yesterday this guy decided to be a fucking idiot and go to Kyle’s house.” Kenny gestured over towards Stan. 

“ _What…?_ ” Cartman asked, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. “He’s not that stupid. There’s no way.” 

Kenny laughed to himself, “Yeah, dude, there is.” 

Stan let out a sigh, “Guys, come on; you’re acting like I spat in the Pope’s face or something. All I wanted to do was give him back some candlestick holders he left in my bag: that’s it.” 

“…To his house inside the _Jewish ghetto_ , on _Sabbath_.” Cartman said, giving Stan an accusative stare. 

Stan sighed, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I already got in enough shit for it from Kyle; I don’t need it from you too.” 

Kenny couldn’t hold back a smile as he placed a hand on Stan’s shoulder and shook his head, “Fuck, dude, that’s right. So… how did Kyle take it anyways?” He asked, Stan beginning to notice that one of Kenny’s tipsy tendencies was to be even more touchy than usual. 

The dark haired boy let out a long breath, “Well… pretty much like you said he would: not too well.” 

Kenny gave Stan an uncertain expression and bit his lip, “So, are you guys still okay, or…?” 

Stan shook his head, “No, dude; we’re fine. Everything wound up working out in the end.” He assured, scratching the back of his neck as he thought back and smiled to himself, “Actually, his parents even ended up inviting me in.” 

Kenny’s mouth curled up into a large grin as Cartman’s mouth dropped open simultaneously.

“There’s no way…” The blonde said in disbelief. 

Stan couldn’t help but smile to himself, the whole thing even hard to believe for him. “Yeah; that actually happened. I was wearing Kyle’s tunic so I blended in, so when Kyle’s mom came and asked who was at the door and saw me, she thought I was a Jew and basically forced me to come inside for something to eat. Kyle had to make up some story about how I was a guy named Yankel in a band from a town close by.” Stan went on, shaking his head, recalling the roller-coaster of emotions that took place the night prior. “I even ended up playing some music with Kyle’s brother.” 

“Well, that wasn’t the story I expected to hear… at all.” Kenny laughed, “Good thing Tweek told you where he lived, huh?” He added with a wink, Cartman rolling his eyes at the two of them. 

Stan couldn’t help but get the feeling that Cartman was upset on some level about Stan’s venture, probably mostly because Stan got to go into a place he would never ever be authorised to enter to see someone he had to pretend he didn’t even know in public. Stan and Kenny exchanged glances, Kenny scratching his chin and thinking for a quick second, looking as though he was trying to come up with a way to diverge the subject. 

“Hey, how about another round? My treat.” 

Cartman raised a brown eyebrow his way, “You think Kyle would want you spending your money on this?” 

Kenny gave him a dismissive wave of his hand, “Nah, it’s fine dude. I don’t think he really cares how I spend it as long as he gets it all back eventually.” 

Cartman scoffed, “Pssh, yeah, that’s true: that’s all our Jew really thinks about.” He joked, or at least Stan hoped that was the case. “So in that case, yeah; why not?” 

~

“Dude,” Kenny let out, draping his arm around Stan’s shoulder two pints later. “See that girl over there, the blonde one?” He asked, pointing to a seemingly upper class woman dressed in a long red and gold dress wearing a tight corset that sucked in her middle and pushed up her massive boobs. 

Stan nodded, feeling his eyelids beginning to go droopy. “Yeah, I see her. What about her, though?” 

“Well, her name’s Bebe Stevens, and she’s a total bitch, but hot as hell.” Kenny stated as-a-matter-of-factly. “And would ya believe that I got with her before?” The blonde bragged, his eyes shamelessly plastered on one particular aspect of the curly haired blonde who sat unoccupied across the bar. 

“Yeah, Kenny obviously went for her because of her personality.” Cartman geared, observing the glazed over look in Kenny’s eyes as he stared at anything but her face. “But seriously Kenny, you can’t actually think that that’s an accomplishment. She’s probably fucked every guy in here. Twice.” 

Kenny broke his gaze away from her breasts for a moment to address his friend, the blonde shaking a finger at Cartman. 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. What you should’ve said was that she’s fucked every _rich_ guy in here at least twice, or every guy with more than an acre of land to his name. But what do I have for her? Nothing. I got shit all, and yet somehow…” He said with a raise of his eyebrows as he elbowed Cartman in the ribs, Cartman letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“Goddammit, Kenny.” He said, shaking his head, “Well if it wasn’t for those dick rumours…” 

“Hey,” Kenny added, cutting Cartman off, “Calling them ‘rumours’ makes it sound like they’re just these lies I’m making up, but I’m not the one spreading them around town, am I? My dick earned its rep all on its own.” 

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any cockier about your dick, but I guess a couple of pints of whatever this hopsy poor people shit is makes anything possible.” 

Kenny couldn’t help but do anything other than chuckle, “Good choice of words, there.” 

Cartman rolled his light blue eyes, “Jesus Christ…” He dragged on, both Stan and Cartman watching as Kenny laughed to himself, leaning against the backing of his chair. 

“Hey Cartman, do you remember where Bebe and I fucked that one time?” He asked, flashing a large grin the brunette’s way. 

“I try to forget it every day.” Eric deadpanned, Stan’s curiosity suddenly peeking. 

“Aw, come on Cartman. Now you have to say it, since you brought it up and everything.” Kenny pressed, his smile unfading. 

“What?! I didn’t bring shit up.” Cartman said back. “I think you’ve been sniffing way too much manure.” 

Stan shot up a dark eyebrow Cartman’s way, “Dude, was it really that bad?” 

Eric let out a scoff, “Uh, yeah, it was.” He assured, watching as Kenny tried his best to hold back his laughter as he sat between the two of them, Cartman finally rolling his eyes in defeat. “Goddammit, fine; I’ll tell you. Stan, this guy fucked that bitch in a barn that was literally attached to my chapel while I was trying to do confessions for people!”  
Kenny couldn’t hold back his laughter any more, Stan getting the feeling that the two of them shared a lot more of these types of stories together. 

“Dude, dude, tell him the best part.” Kenny geared. 

“The best part? You mean the worst part! I _heard_ it. I literally heard his moans.” He said with dramatic eyes.

Stan looked at Kenny and raised his eyebrows, somehow the scenario not painting an overly obscure picture in his head of the things Kenny was capable of. 

“But hey,” The blonde interjected, “I’ve been told I’m a pretty sexy moaner.” 

“Pfft. Who told you that?” Eric asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Lots of people.” Kenny shrugged. “Come on; you can’t tell me you weren’t at least a little turned on.” 

Eric furrowed his eyebrows the blonde’s way, “What? No way.” 

Kenny gave Cartman an exaggerated frown, “Aw, that’s too bad…” He commenced, scratching his chin as he pretended to contemplate something, “Hmm, but you know, I bet it might’ve made a difference if I had, let’s say, fiery red hair? Maybe a little fro, even?” 

Cartman did nothing other than roll his eyes, “Jesus Kenny…” He let out, quickly distracted by a new development across the bar table. 

“Goddammit; why does Bebe keep flashing her boobs over here? Some of us are trying to enjoy our drinks.” Cartman said, all three of them now trying to subtly glance over in the curly haired blonde’s direction. 

“Huh…I wonder if she’s trying to catch mine or Stan’s attention.” 

“Ay,” Cartman butted in, “Why am I off the table?” 

“Uh, because she’s heard you open your mouth before?” The blonde said with a wide grin, followed quickly afterwards by a nudge in his ribs from the brunette beside him. “No, but in all seriousness, Stan, do you wanna go over and see if she wants to talk, or…?” 

Stan shrugged, “It’s fine dude; you can go see what she wants.” He assured. With that, Kenny flashed a smile his way and stood up straight, brushing off the dust from his outfit. 

“So, how do I look?” Kenny asked, looking at the both of them for approval. 

“Poor and horny.” Eric stated. 

“Good enough.” Kenny said with a grin. With that, the blonde left the two of them and made his way over to meet with one of the only females in the bar, leaving an empty space between them where he once sat. 

For a few moments, Stan sat awkwardly beside the brunette, having had very little one on one time with him before, wondering what exactly the two of them had in common. 

Without much thought, Stan’s eyes were directed to one of the only things he could think of at the time: his large beer mug that sat on the table in front of him. 

“Do you know what they call this stuff?” Stan asked, motioning to his cup with the questionable looking liquid inside. 

Cartman shrugged his broad shoulders, “Couldn’t tell you, but since Kenny paid for it, I didn’t want to break him, so I got us all this because it was the cheapest stuff they had.” 

Stan nodded approvingly, “That’s fair.” 

“But one thing I do know is that it’s weak as hell and really sweet. Way too sweet.” He said, leaning with his elbows on the table and looking into his mug with furrowed eyebrows. 

Stan grinned to himself, “But hey, it seems strong enough for Kenny.” He pointed out, directing his elbow over to where Kenny and Bebe were talking, Kenny leaning his elbow on the chair right beside her with his face only inches apart from hers. 

Cartman laughed, “Nah, if Kenny wants to go up and flirt with somebody, he doesn’t need alcohol in him to do it; that’s just the type of guy he is. But you’re right that stuff hits him pretty hard, mostly because he doesn’t eat much throughout the day.” 

Stan nodded, “Mhm, that makes sense, then.”

The brunette smiled to himself, “But that’s not the way it works with knights, right Sir Stan?”

The black haired boy rolled his eyes in response, “Hey, we’re not _that_ bad…” 

“Don’t give me that shit. I can tell in the first five seconds if I walk into a bar and a group of you guys infested it, because I can see every beer mug the bar owns lying around the room on every square inch of counter space.” Eric elaborated, “I swear to god you guys singlehandedly keep the glassmakers in business.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow Eric’s way, “Dude, that’s a lot of talk for a guy who comes here on a Saturday night instead of preparing his homily.” 

Cartman shot the black haired boy a smirk, “Touché, castleboy.” 

Stan laughed to himself, “You know, I didn’t spend every cent of what Kyle gave me on my sword.”

The brunette shook his head, “Here you knights go again, always looking for an excuse to get smashed.” 

Stan leaned back on his chair and shrugged, “Hey, I’m just offering.” 

Cartman was quick to respond, shrugging his shoulders in return, “And hey, I didn’t say no either.” He said, paralleling Stan. Cartman and Stan may not have had a lot in common, but if there’s one thing upper class good Christian men were good at, it was disobeying Romans 13:13- a transgression they would feel the wrath of the morning after, if not sooner.

 

As Saturday night became Sunday morning, the barrier between Cartman and Stan started to wear thinner, in part due to the liquor, of course. But despite the fact that the alcohol may have been the initiator of their conversation, the two guys did fairly well in keeping it up for having been pretty much strangers at the beginning of the night. They talked about everything and nothing all at once, their minds much more open and willing to share than they would have been otherwise, which made for an interesting way of getting to know each other. 

“Wait, wait,” Cartman began, leaning his elbow on the table and looking up curiously at Stan, Stan having shifted over for means of easier conversation with the brunette. “How’d you even know where Kyle lived?” Cartman brought up, the two of them having begun to expand on last night’s events.

Stan laughed to himself, remembering the lie about Tweek that Kenny told him to say to Kyle, Kyle luckily having not asked at all. 

“Kenny told me, actually.” He said, feeling his eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the minute. 

“Pssh, I figured.” Eric responded. “Well, it’d be hard for the fucker to get that place out of his mind.” 

Stan quirked an eyebrow Cartman’s way, “Dude, what?” He asked, giving himself a few seconds to absorb the new information. 

“Oh yeah, Cartman; that's what I wanted to ask you! Why he even knew where it is in the first place?” 

Cartman let out a hard laugh, “Stan, do you really think I’m just gonna disclose that type of information to you? I mean, you seem like an okay guy, but Kenny could really get in big trouble if you went spreading that around. And to be honest, I’m surprised he even told you he knew in the first place. He must really trust you for some reason.” 

Stan nodded his head as he thought about the brunette’s statement for a few seconds, his thoughts coming to him later than normal. 

“Funny; it sorta seems like that’s the trend with people around here…” He dragged on, his eyes fixated on the empty mug in front of him. 

As though from out of nowhere, Stan heard a familiar exasperated sigh from behind him, causing him to turn around in his seat.

“Oh hey; it’s Kyle!” Stan called out in a voice louder than he anticipated. The red head shook his head as he looked down at the table to the empty glasses sprawled in front of Cartman and Stan’s vicinity. 

“You guys think you’ll be able to manage dragging yourselves to church tomorrow morning, especially you, Sir Eric?” Kyle added ironically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cartman gave him a dismissive wave of his hand, “Whatever, Jew; I’ll be fine. I can just… fake the plague or something if I don’t feel good.” 

Kyle couldn’t resist but to let out a hard laugh, “ _Fake the plague?_ Jesus Christ, Cartman…” He said with a shake of his head, redirecting his attention back to his initial purpose. 

“Anyway, I doubt either of you are going to have the answer to this, but has anyone seen Kenny?” Kyle asked.

Stan shook his head, “No dude; I haven’t seen him since he went to talk to that blonde with big boobs a while ago.” 

Kyle cocked an eyebrow, smiling to himself, “You mean Bebe Stevens?” 

Stan gave a strong nod, “Yeah, yeah; that’s the one.” He affirmed. “Kenny’s probably somewhere, dude; don’t worry about it.” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Well ‘probably somewhere’ isn’t exactly the answer I was looking for, but thanks for trying.” He said sarcastically, still continuing to eye the area for any signs of him. After a little while longer and no success later, the red head sat down at the bar next to Stan, leaning his elbows on the table as he seemed to be contemplating his next step. 

Yet as luck would have it, almost immediately as Kyle sat down, the blonde he was looking for emerged from the crowd of people seemingly out of nowhere. The first thing Stan noticed about him was that his clothes looked even more unkept than before, his cincture loosely tied in a sideways fashion, and that his hair was array and tousled than usual. Without saying a word, it was clear that something had gone on, but no one there looked like they were going to ask anything, the boys preferring to live by the motto that sometimes some things are better off left unsaid. 

“Hey guys.” Kenny said in a relaxed manner, leaning his hip on the counter next to Kyle, giving the red head an inquisitive look as he directed his attention to him. “Dude, what’re you doing around here? I thought you didn’t like coming to Tweek’s bar.” 

“I don’t, but this is pretty much the only place I’m allowed to go in so I could try to find you. I have to give you something,” Kyle said as he reached into a bag he had flung over his shoulder and pulled out a small burlap sack filled with something heavy inside. 

Kenny tilted his head to the side as he took the sack that was given to him, “What’s this?” 

“You overpaid your interest again. I don’t like keeping extra money like that lying around; it messes up my count at the end of the day.” The red head explained, Stan noticing Cartman grinning at the red head’s comment. 

“Wow, a Jew giving money _back_ to someone? You sure you’re not just doing that because you let those spice box fumes get to your head?”

Kyle couldn’t help but let out a scoff, “I'm surprised you even remember what a spice box _is_.” He retorted, Stan wishing he had a clue as to what they were referring to. 

Kenny let out a chuckle a he witnessed two of his best friends in what seemed to be the beginning of one of the jostles that helped forge their friendship, the blonde clearing his throat before he spoke again.  
“Well it’s a good thing you came when you did Kyle, ‘cause I’m about to head back home for the night.” He said with a yawn. “But seriously, thanks again.”

Kyle nodded, catching the contagiousness of Kenny’s yawn as he too expressed his fatigue. 

“Yeah, no problem, dude. But you really should be more careful: I might not always catch your mistakes, and you’d be the one paying for it.” 

Kenny nodded, “Yeah; I’ll definitely try to be.”

 

With that, the four boys started to get up, Cartman being the first to head to the door, followed closely behind by Kenny as they all said their goodbyes for the evening.  
But it was just as the small and sleepy group was about to part ways back to their respective directions that Stan made a 180, remembering something he had to tell Kyle before he left, the alcohol maybe somewhat adding to his sense of urgency to get the news across.

“Dude, Kyle, wait up! I need to tell you something.” Stan called from behind him, the red head turning around to see a familiar face he knew in a not so familiar state of mind. 

Kyle let out another yawn, “Come on, Stan; can’t it wait until Monday? I’m really tired.” 

“Well…I guess it could, but I kinda wanted to tell you now.” Stan insisted, looking at Kyle with hopeful eyes. 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Fine; what is it?” 

A smile crossed Stan’s face, his half-lidded eyes coming to life. “Okay, so you remember how I was talking about training with that Parisian knight?” 

Kyle nodded, “Uh huh.” 

Stan's eyes lit up, “Well, I guess I impressed him enough that he wants me to be some honoured guest at his banquet.” 

Kyle gave the black haired boy a close mouth smile, “Nice, dude. That sounds like a pretty big accomplishment. I'm glad your training paid off.” He said, rubbing his tired eyes and looking like he just wanted to get on home. “So…was that all you wanted to say, then?” 

Stan shook his head, “No; I just wanted to add one more thing.” He tacked on, Kyle exhaling slowly as he stood patiently, waiting for the tipsy knight to finish what he set out to say. 

“Okay, so basically they’re letting me bring a guest, and the one I thought up first has some other shit to do that night, like this… inauguration ceremony thing because she’s all smart like you,” Stan struggled to explain, the words coming slowly to the forefront of his mind, “And, uh… I was kinda wondering if you wanted to come with me instead.” He asked, scratching the back of his neck. 

Kyle’s eyelids lowered as he gave him a blank stare. “You’re seriously suggesting this? You really want _me_ , of all people, to come with you to some banquet where there are gonna be a bunch of Christian knights?” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, dude; why not? You were the next person I thought of.”

Kyle couldn’t do anything but let out a laugh as he shook his head, “Stan, how much did you have to drink?” 

Stan scratched his head as he thought back throughout the night, “I mean… not any more than I’m used to.” He defended. “No, seriously, Kyle; I mean it. I’m not just saying it because of that.” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Well, come Monday we’ll see how much you really ‘mean it’ still, but for now, I think you need to get home and go to sleep. You have church in the morning you have to go to, right?” 

Stan chuckled, “Yeah, technically, but uh… let’s just say that most knights don’t usually wake up in time for the early morning mass.” 

Kyle smiled to himself, “Ha; I should've figured.” 

Stan crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the jab at knights and instead getting a little annoyed by Kyle’s lack of faith in his words. 

“Dude, Kyle, I’m serious- I’ll still mean it on Monday; I know I will.” He insisted. 

Kyle rolled his eyes, looking as though he now fully realised he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Stan in this state. 

“Alright, well I guess we’ll be talking about it in two days’ time, then.” He pretended to give in. “But you really should be getting home, that is, if you remember where you live.” 

Stan rolled his eyes, “Come on; I’m not that out of it.” 

Kyle let out a soft laugh, “Whatever you say, dude. See you in a few days.” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, see you then. Night.” He said, waving off, only realising about twenty steps too late that he was going in the wrong direction... "Huh..." Stan said aloud, "Maybe I'm a bit more out of it than I thought..." 


	9. Chapter 9

The journey from Sunday to Monday was a quick one, especially considering that most of Stan’s Sunday was spent in bed, taking a well-deserved chance to sleep in anytime he could. The morning roosters began to crow, signaling that his long day was about to begin. The dark haired boy rolled off his straw mattress, changed into his tunic, grabbed some of his equipment, and headed to a place he couldn’t even stay away from for the weekend, the trek there now becoming something he knew like the back of his hand.

As he finally approached the table Kyle had already set up, he couldn’t help but notice a smirk on the red head’s face, Stan knowing exactly why it was plastered there. 

“So, how’s your head feeling?” Kyle questioned as he leant back in his chair, watching Stan’s expression as he took a seat beside him. 

Stan shook his head and tried to refrain from smiling, Kyle’s question nothing less than what he expected. 

“It’s fine now, but if you asked me that yesterday, I would’ve given you a different answer.” Stan said honestly. 

“I figured.” He said before taking his back off the chair backing and sitting up straight. “Well, at least you had a whole day to recover, because today is probably going to be your most intense training day yet. You’re going to learn 7 letters and 3 _soffits_. You remember what a soffit is, right?” Kyle asked, looking doubtful as he raised an eyebrow. 

Stan scratched his head as he went back in time to a few days ago, his Friday lesson seeming so far away. 

“That’s when… there’s another way to write the letter if it’s the last letter in the sentence?” Stan attempted, trying hard to recall his lesson. 

Kyle’s frown turned upwards as he nodded in what seemed to be a surprised fashion. “Wow, I really didn’t expect you to remember that, actually. But yeah, that’s basically it, except that it’s not only if it’s the last letter in the sentence, but if it’s the last letter in the word. Take a word like _levavecha_ , for example.” Kyle said, grabbing hold of the parchment and dipping his quill in fresh ink. “See the _khaf_ at the end of the word? It’s in the _khaf_ soffit form even though it’s not the last word in the sentence itself. Does that make sense?” 

Stan nodded a little apprehensively, “Uh, yeah, I think so. But I don’t think I know that first letter yet, though.” The black haired boy added, pointing to the letter that began the word Kyle had just written. 

Kyle shook his head in agreement, “No, you don’t; we haven’t gotten to that one yet, but that’s actually the first one we’re going to learn today. It’s called a _lamed_. Personally, I think it’s one of the nicest looking ones.” He said, writing one effortlessly in cursive first, followed by one written much more slowly in print beside it. 

Stan let out a laugh, “You make it look so easy.” 

Kyle shrugged, “It is easy dude, and I’m not just saying that because I’ve been teaching handwriting for… god, what is it, six, seven years now?” 

“Damn; no wonder your letters look like they came straight off the Ten Commandment blocks.” Stan joked, watching a smile spread over Kyle’s face at his biblical reference.  
“Well, maybe not the ones that were written by God, but I’ll settle with the ones written by Moses.” Kyle said, carrying on the comparison, Stan not quite up-to-speed enough with his bible to fully understand that. 

“I don’t know how you put up with all those kids, though. I can barely take an afternoon with my page.” Stan admitted, shaking his head. “Was teaching really always something you wanted to do?” 

Kyle nodded, “Yeah, it was, to my dad’s disappointment. He would’ve rather had me be something like a lawyer or a doctor, like my brother. You saw how proud they were of him.” The red head said somewhat bitterly. “But I wanted to be something I was really good at and that I actually enjoyed, and writing was always one of my strong suits. My brother can rip on me all he wants, but without my help, him and nearly all the kids in this ghetto would be illiterate.” 

Stan’s eyes went wide, “Dude; I don’t get how your dad wouldn’t be impressed by something like that.” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Well, I don’t get a fancy title in front of my name, do I? And plus, my dad thinks it’s kind of contradictory to spend so much of my time teaching kids about the language of our people, but then during my day job I turn around and spend all day dealing with you guys.” Kyle said with a smirk, Stan simply giving him a playful eye roll in response.

“And from what I remember, you said you ended up where you are because you’re the second born in your family?” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, second to a sister actually. Technically, I should just be doing nothing like my dad all day, just going to council meetings once in a while at the most, but instead I’ve been going to training ever since before I can remember.”

“Well, at least you’re learning something new every day instead of just sitting at home, right?” He said with a shrug.

“Kind of, yeah. But you know, after a while, every day just kind of starts to… blend together.” He said pensively. “Sure, you’ll learn something new every once in a while, but when you get to my stage, you’re pretty much just perfecting what you already learned, and even though I know that that’s really important, that doesn’t stop it from becoming… routine.” Stan said, exhaling as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

“See, there’s a part of me that gets bored with it all- just practising the same thing every day over and over again, but then… there’s another part of me that knows that I’m better off doing that than actually going into battle, because when you go into battle, there’s no guarantee that you’re going to come, well… out of it.” He said straightforwardly.  
“But, hey, that’s just part of my duty, right?” 

Kyle picked his eyes up and met Stan’s, giving him a strange expression, “Yeah, but I bet that still doesn’t make it any easier.” 

Stan couldn’t help but let out a sour laugh, “Yeah… not really.”

A moment later, the inky haired boy bit his lower lip as he thought for a second, letting out a slow breath as he broke his gaze with Kyle and instead brought his attention elsewhere, carefully raising up a part of his tunic to reveal a long, jagged scar that marked the left side of his stomach. Stan watched as Kyle’s eyes went wide, the red head saying no words in response to the injury, but rather letting his expression speak for him. 

"A few years ago, someone got their sword through a weak spot in my chainmail and… I almost totally bled out, but somehow after they seared it shut, I healed without any infections.” Stan said, voice uneasy as he recalled the trauma and stared down at his side. “…I guess I just got really lucky.” 

Kyle nodded in response, his eyes still locked on the scarred piece of skin. 

“Yeah… looks like it.” He gulped. “It’s a good thing your body was resilient enough to get through that because honestly, I… don’t think there are too many good knights like you around.” Kyle said, picking his eyes back up to meet Stan’s, a solemn look etched on his angular face.

Stan smiled briefly before he shook his head, “I hate to break it you, but if you asked any other knights what they thought of me, being a good person wouldn’t be the first thing that would come to their mind.” 

Kyle raised an eyebrow his way, “And what would they be basing that off of? Chivalry training? How well you…I don’t know, present yourself in front of the king? How often you go to church?” 

Stan shrugged, “Well yeah, probably.” 

Kyle let out a sideways smile, “Dude, do you really think any of that matters? Do you really think that shit says anything about who you are as a person? ” He asked rhetorically. “Stan, you’re one of the only people I know with your status who’s actually respected me enough to do business with me, to even… follow through with a transaction that we made.” 

Stan cocked his head to the side, “What? Kyle; I had to. I messed up and I needed money. You were the one who was nice enough to give me a way to make that even happen.” He reasoned, watching as Kyle’s mood became more solemn. 

The red head broke their gaze and directed his eyes towards the scroll.

“...Do you remember how I told you that you were the first knight I ever did business with?” Kyle asked with an expression that was unreadable to Stan.

The dark haired boy nodded. “Yeah…” 

Kyle sighed to himself before continuing, “Well… it might be interesting for you to know that you weren’t the first knight I ever gave money to.”

Stan raised an eyebrow Kyle’s way, “…You mean someone came and asked for a handout and you pitied them? Something like that?” 

Kyle laughed bitterly to himself, “I wouldn’t put it that way. It was more like… they needed money from me, but they didn’t exactly give me the option to say no.”

The statement caught Stan by surprise, causing him to sit up straight in his seat. 

“What...?” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “They just expected me to give it to them, Stan. They figured they were entitled to it because of their status. There was no deal with them, no negotiations, no verification of collateral… barely even any words. But hey, they’re defenders of the king and his army, right? So what right do I have to deny them something they want?” He asked ironically. 

Stan shook his head, feeling the weight of the words on Kyle’s tongue as he spoke. “Aren’t there rules against that? Can’t they get…arrested or something? That’s stealing, Kyle.” 

Kyle’s eyes grew darker as he locked gazes with Stan, the red head giving him an irritable look. 

“I know what it is, Stan. And yes, of course there are rules against it, but think about it; whose rights are the king going to protect? One of his ‘loyal’ men who puts their life on the line for his kingdom, or me?” 

Stan swallowed hard, the question not requiring an answer. A heavy silence crept into the air, the dark haired boy feeling the weight of a thousand guilty knights loom over him, wishing that somehow what Kyle experienced was a one-time fluke, yet without needing further clarification, he already knew that that just wasn’t the case. 

The black haired boy merely shook his head, “Dude…I thought we were better than that.” He said weakly, not knowing what else to say. 

Kyle let out a slow breath, his anger seeming to subside as he exhaled. “Listen, I didn’t tell you that to make you feel like shit. I told you because you’ve… genuinely been surprising me so far.” He offered up, Stan picking up his eyes and returning his gaze to Kyle’s, his words striking a tender chord with him. 

A few moments later, a smirk formed on Kyle’s face as he chuckled to himself.

“Speaking of surprises, do you remember what you sprung on me last night, just as I was about to head home?” 

Stan couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he stuck his hands into the folds in his tunic, feeling his face become hot. 

“Oh god… yeah, about that…” He said, looking away, “I uh, I tend to say pretty stupid shit when I’m, well…”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “Drunk?” 

“I was going to say something like tipsy.” Stan corrected with a grin. 

Kyle smiled, not seeming overly phased. “Well, if it’s any reassurance, I’m sure you're capable of saying dumber things, and I'm willing to bet you probably have.” 

“Yeah; maybe a couple times.” He admitted.

Kyle sat back comfortably in his chair, looking relaxed as he began to speak again, “But you know, just for the record, if there wasn’t this huge social divide between us, I would’ve said yes.” 

Stan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, “Really?” 

Kyle shrugged, “Yeah, sure; why not?” He said nonchalantly, Stan smiling warmly back at him, surprised again by the red head’s responses that day. 

A few moments later, Kyle brought his eyes away from Stan and glared up at the sun that was rising behind the black haired boy, a look of annoyance suddenly striking his face. 

“Oh god- not again! We haven’t even gotten anything done yet!” 

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle, somewhat enjoying seeing the red head’s bout of frustration for whatever reason. 

“Oh no, really?” He said playfully. With that, Kyle nudged him with his elbow, rolling his eyes as he returned them to the nearly untouched parchment. 

“Ugh; I really needed to get through these with you today…” He trailed on, a contemplative look beginning to form on his face. “You know what? How about you come back here tonight, after my work and your training is all done?” 

Stan shrugged, “Yeah, sure dude.” 

Kyle nodded, “Okay good; that works, then.” He said, pleased. “I guess you better get going though, you know, so you have enough time to change out of your disguise.” The red head advised, his eyes on the rising sun. 

Stan gave him a closed mouth smile and looked down at himself, “You know, this is actually really comfortable. I wish I could always wear stuff like this.” 

Kyle flashed a grin back Stan’s way, “Well, unfortunately for you then, when you come back tonight we won’t have as much time, so you’ll probably just have to stay in your uncomfortable Christian clothes. But anyway, it’ll be dark so there won't really be a need to change.” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, I guess so. You’ll just have to try not to laugh at the tights and the bright ass colours.” 

Kyle cocked an eyebrow, “Dude, it’ll be pitch black: I won’t even be able to see your shitty colour scheme." He assured. "And as for the tights on the other hand, I never really had a problem with those.” 

Kyle’s last comment couldn’t help but catch Stan’s attention, the black haired boy suddenly feeling his throat go dry for a reason he couldn’t quite explain. 

“Anyway, see you tonight.” Kyle said simply, handing him his bag with his clothes and writing tools that went unused. 

Stan took the bag and nodded, “Yeah, uh, see you soon...”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definition:  
> Get- Jewish divorce document that is part of religious law

The day seemed longer than most to Stan, but then again, that was beginning to become the trend now that his days were extended due to the early hours he had to rise. But at the same time… that wasn’t really what seemed to make the day feel longer, at least, that’s not what it felt like it was. Stan’s days now seemed to revolve around the merchant’s quarter- when he would be expected to be there, and when the next time would be that he could go back. Today he was lucky: a double dose of the place that seemed so far connected from a society he never truly felt he fit in with. A double dose of a type of serenity that came with stepping away from his typical position and putting on what was becoming less and less of a costume and more of an escape into a world he wished he knew existed sooner. And luckiest of all, a double dose of a red headed instructor he always looked forward to making conversation with. 

Kyle really was a good conversationalist, Stan thought. Even if they were just talking about writing… something Stan would normally fall asleep to if he wasn’t careful. But not with Kyle. That thought hadn’t occurred to him once. 

 

The boys briefly greeted each other upon meeting up for the second time that day, but just as Kyle said they would, they got straight to work. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle finally allowed the dark haired boy to set his quill down, his hand unable to take any more. 

“Holy shit; you weren’t kidding when you said we were gonna work.” Stan said as he rubbed his eyes, barely being able to keep them open any longer. Despite the oil lamp’s power fading, the black haired boy still caught a glimpse of the redhead’s smirk, the dim light highlighting every crease and imperfection in his face, which tonight displayed most notably the bags under Kyle’s eyes. 

“You can’t lie and say that I’m the only one who’s tired after that.” Stan yawned, rubbing his own bags that he knew were there too. 

Kyle yawned in return after having watched Stan do so, shrugging his shoulders in a dismissive fashion. 

“I always look this tired.” Kyle said, sitting up straight in his chair and cracking his neck. “Probably from teaching people like you all the time.” 

Stan flashed him a smile that reflected the fading light, shaking his head at the way that even after a day of successful learning that he could still mock him, just because he could.  
“Hey, to be fair, I don’t think you usually teach kids ten letters in one day.” 

Kyle released a slow breath, “Dude; how many times do I have to remind you? I taught you seven letters and three soffits. A soffit isn’t a separate letter- it’s just another form of a letter.” 

“I know, I know.” Stan dismissed, not at all surprised by Kyle’s nitpicking at this point. “You get my point, though.” 

Kyle nodded, “Yeah, I do. That was a lot even for me, and I can write up a _ketubah_ in one sitting.” 

“A what?” Stan asked, tilting his head to the side. 

Kyle let out a chuckle, “It’s a marriage contract.” He explained, “You know, sometimes it's easy to forget that we grew up differently, me over here in my ghetto and you growing up in a castle...” He said pensively. 

“Huh... maybe that's because when I talk to you, you don’t remind me of the other Christians I’ve dealt with before. It's... weird.” He admitted.

Stan cocked his head to the side, "Like...good weird, or bad weird?" 

Kyle smiled back at him almost immediately, "Good weird."

Stan reciprocated the smile, unable to hide the happiness that statement brought to him. “Well, maybe it’s the tunic that throws you off.” Stan suggested with a playful smile. 

“Yeah; maybe that’s part of it.” 

 

As the two of them sleepily worked together to put away all their supplies and dismantle the table, they couldn’t help but halt when they heard a sudden and somewhat loud noise come from somewhere nearby. 

Stan watched as Kyle’s eyes went wide, the piece of wood feeling ten times heavier all of a sudden. 

“You heard it too?” Stan asked in a softer voice, setting the table top down slowly. Kyle nodded. 

“Yeah…” He gulped. “I think it came from near those trees over there.” He pointed out, the fear in his eyes detectable even with only the softest moonlight to illuminate the deserted area. It wasn’t hard for Stan to understand why he looked frightened: there was a lot to fear in a society where you’re always the mouse in a barn full of cats. 

“I’ll go check it out.” The dark haired boy offered, his curiosity peeked. Kyle quickly grabbed his arm before he had a chance to take a step forward. 

“Dude; what if it’s an animal? You don’t even have your sword with you.” He said, his eyes looking serious. 

“Kyle, when was the last time there were any wild animals around here besides squirrels? Don’t worry: the Romans killed off pretty much everything around here years ago, remember?” Stan said, a slight tone of bitterness in his voice as he recalled the lessons from his youth about the Colosseums and what was killed there besides humans. 

Kyle appeared to be thinking for a second as he bit his lip before giving a quick head bob. “Okay, you can go see, but if you need any backup, just… yell or something.” 

Stan gave a final nod, “Okay; I will.” He assured, Kyle finally letting go of his arm. As Stan began to walk forward, he could feel Kyle’s presence not far from him, the dark haired boy having a strong feeling that if Kyle didn’t have so many people to fear, he would’ve been right there beside him instead of trailing behind. 

A few moments later, the noise returned, this time more distinguishably. 

“That sounded like a cough.” Stan said loud enough that Kyle could hear from behind. 

“Yeah; I think that’s what it was too.” Kyle affirmed. “It… didn’t sound like anyone intimidating. It might’ve been a girl, even.” He said as he came up to Stan’s side, just as intrigued. 

“Yeah, maybe...” Stan whispered back as the two of them got closer and closer to the treeline. 

Once they finally reached the area the sound was coming from, Stan came to a halt. 

“Wait; this is still part of the merchant’s quarter, right? Like, if it was someone from the Church, they couldn’t say that you’d get in trouble for being here, would they?” The raven haired boy had to ask. 

Kyle’s expression went hard as his eyes narrowed. “No; I’ll be fine, Stan. This is still neutral territory, if that’s what you mean.”

Stan gulped, “Sorry, dude. I… just wanted to make sure.” 

Kyle let out a sigh before glancing back, giving him a reassuring nod, “No, it' fine. I get why you asked.” He said quickly, returning his eyesight straight ahead. 

There were a few seconds of silence before anything else happened, almost as if both parties, the unknown and the two boys, were simultaneously holding their breaths, just waiting for the other to react.... 

“Well? Are you gonna say something or are you gonna just wait for them to draw their sword?” Kyle asked sharply from behind. 

This time it was Stan’s turn to look annoyed as he cast a harsh glare Kyle’s way. He knew what he had to do, and with years of battle experience, it would seem that approaching potentially dangerous situations would come easy to the dark haired boy, but sometimes… that wasn’t always how things played out. 

What Stan was really doing in his moment of hesitation was going over all the possibilities in his head before he went forward, wondering if he had acted too fast in his decision to investigate, but also knowing that even with the possibility of threats that lay beyond the treeline, his adventurous tendencies always found a way to get the better of him. 

But now it was time to rise to the challenge, so with one final gulp, the raven haired boy cleared his throat. 

“Hello? Who’s there?” He called out, unconsciously positioning himself in front of Kyle. He was pleased that his voice came out more intimidating than he thought it would, Kyle seeming confident enough with it not to add anything else. The two of them waited a few moments longer, and when they were only greeted with silence, Stan cleared his throat once more. 

“Hey; if anyone’s there, you can come out. We’re not looking for a fight.” Stan called out again, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him. 

No longer than five seconds later, the sound of a sigh emitted from the area right in front of the two boys, both Kyle and Stan waiting for the person to emerge and reveal him or herself, holding their ground all the while. 

When the mysterious person finally stepped out into the scarcely lit area, Stan watched as Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. 

“Ugh- I can’t believe you guys thought I was a girl. My voice isn’t that high.” A familiar boy spoke up, stepping into the moonlight. 

“Jesus Christ, Ike! What the hell were you doing hiding in the bushes?” Kyle asked in a frustrated tone, Ike responding merely with laughter. 

“God, you guys took that so seriously. I barely made a sound and you thought I was some bear or something.” The spiky black haired boy said with a chuckle, dusting off his tunic as he leaned up against a nearby tree and set his fiddle case down beside him. 

“Hey; you still haven't answered me. What were you even doing out here?” Kyle snapped as he placed his hands on his hips, not letting him off the hook. 

“I was just practising my fiddle. I come out here pretty much every day around this time because there’s usually no one to bother me while I’m playing. But, you know, the only way you’d know that is if you paid attention to anything I ever did, so…” The dark haired boy said with a healthy dose of attitude, directing his gaze towards his brother. “Actually, I was gonna ask you what the hell you were doing out here. I know you’d usually be in bed by this time, so when I heard your voice and it sounded like you were talking to someone, I had to check it out.” 

Kyle let out a sigh as his chest deflated, his fear being released ever so slowly. Stan sensed by the wild look in the redhead’s eyes during the whole escapade that he’d definitely experienced some degree of trauma that left him scarred in his past, although he wasn’t too sure what it could’ve been. Maybe one day he’d find out, but that day was not today.  
The two brothers locked eyes, and despite Ike’s accusations, the younger boy’s expression became gentle. Ike took a few steps forward and grabbed hold of the redhead, wrapping him in a quick embrace, and said something indistinguishable into his ear, Kyle nodding as he spoke. When the two released each other, there seemed to be a new level of understanding they both held in their eyes, a level of understanding Stan could only wish in his wildest dreams he’d come to with his own sister. 

“Hey; now it's your turn to answer _me_. What were _you_ guys doing out here?” Ike asked with arms across his chest. 

“We were doing a make-up lesson because Stan still had a lot of new stuff to learn today.” Kyle said, pointing with his elbow over to the large, dismantled table and bags of supplies that laid sprawled across the ground. 

The young black haired boy nodded, a smirk etched across his face. “Ah. I see.” He said, picking up his eyes and directing them over to Stan. “So there wasn’t enough time in the morning to cover everything?” 

Stan let out a laugh, “Well, I guess there might’ve been if we were working the whole time.” 

Stan watched as a closed mouth smile spread over Kyle’s face, Ike catching note of it too as he brought his attention back to his brother. 

“Some teacher you are. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the one who always yells at the kids to stay on topic the whole time? All of them coming out of lessons complaining that their hands are sore and that ‘Mr Kyle’ never gives them any breaks, or am I thinking of another Kyle?” He said cheekily, Kyle simply rolling his eyes in return. 

“Ike, trust me: Stan and I get a lot done in our sessions. We have to cover a lot more per lesson than I’ve ever done with any of the kids, especially since the time we have together is so short, you know, considering...” Kyle explained, Ike still smiling. 

“Yeah, because we’d never let a goy step foot in our ghetto, right?” He teased, referring of course to the Shabbat dinner Stan shared with their family only a short time ago. 

“Alright; that’s enough, dude.” Kyle said with a chuckle as he ruffled his brother’s hair, Stan happy to see the two of them getting along so well. 

As Stan turned his eyes away from the two boys, he remembered Ike’s fiddle that he had been carrying with him and eyed it with interest, bringing his gaze down to the ground.  
“What were you working on anyways?” He questioned, remembering how fond he was of that style of music. 

“Why? Were you thinking of stealing my piece and claiming it as yours when you play it for your own band?” Ike joked. 

Stan laughed, “Well _now_ I guess I can’t.” Stan played along, Kyle rolling his eyes now at both of them. 

“Guys, we don't have time for this. We should really be getting home.” Kyle reasoned, shifting his gaze between the two of them. 

“Aw, come on Kyle; when else is Stan going to get to hear me play again?” He asked with a pleading look. “I’ve been working on this new one for a while now, actually. It’s meant for a wedding.” 

Kyle cocked an eyebrow, “Rebecca and David’s wedding?” 

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Ike wondered, bending down to get his fiddle out of the case, ignoring his brother’s request to head home just yet. 

“I wrote the ketubah for them a few days ago.” The redhead explained, glancing over in Stan’s direction, knowing that he now knew what that meant. 

Ike nodded as he finished placing the fiddle under his chin and rotating his shoulder as a type of warm up. 

“Kyle, you know what I mean when I said I wrote it for a wedding, right?” His brother had to ask. 

“Yeah; that means it’s an upbeat song.” He shrugged. 

Stan brought his gaze back to Ike and lifted an eyebrow, “You really mean that it’s meant for dancing, right?” 

“Yup; exactly.” He affirmed, the two of them now adverting their eyes in Kyle’s direction. The redhead crossed his arms tightly across his chest and started to shake his head. 

“I know what you guys are thinking, and the answer is no.” He said sharply. 

“Come on, Kyle. You can’t be a stick in the mud forever.” Ike pried as he began to run the bow slowly over the strings, tuning his instrument. 

“You guys, I’m not going to say it again: I don’t like dancing, and I’m shit at it, so if you wanna play the song, just play it and we can listen. And if Stan really wants to dance to it, he can do that by himself.” Kyle said stubbornly. 

Ike turned to Stan and gestured with a tilt of his head that it was his turn to try to sway the unmoving money lender, the younger boy continuing to warm up. 

“Kyle, I think you’re lying.” Stan stated straightforwardly, Kyle raising an eyebrow in surprise. 

“About what?” 

“I don’t think you actually hate dancing: I think you _think_ you’re shit at it, and that that’s somehow stopping you from liking it. No one can hate dancing, dude. You’re just thinking about it too much.” 

Kyle shook his head, “No; I don’t _think_ I’m shit at it, I _know_ I’m shit at it. And last time I checked, not being good at something is a pretty valid reason not to enjoy doing it.” 

Stan shrugged his shoulders, “But dancing isn’t something you have to be good at to like.” He reasoned. Stan took a step forward and placed his hand on the redhead’s shoulder.  
“Dude, look around. No one’s here. No one’s going to judge you if you miss a beat or… I don’t know, step on someone’s foot by accident. It’s just me and your brother. That’s it.” He said with a smile, trying to get Kyle to make one in return. 

There was a brief moment of silence, but before either of them could speak again, the sound of Ike’s fiddle filled the air. Like before, his song began slowly, which was the perfect time to act. Wordlessly, Stan took hold of one of Kyle’s hands and raised it up, while simultaneously wrapping an arm around the redhead’s waist and pulling him a few inches closer, still allowing for some space between them. 

To Stan’s surprise, Kyle didn’t reject either of these actions, but judging by the stoic expression on his face, he could see that he still wasn’t pleased about it. But the dark haired boy merely took it as a challenge- a challenge to try to, at the very least, make him see that dancing wasn’t just a form of torture created to embarrass him and his lack of abilities. 

Once their hands were intertwined, Stan looked over at Ike and gestured with a nod of his head to pick up the pace, the younger black haired boy complying instantly. 

The music picked up, and with it, so did Stan’s feet. He began with a slower, walking motion, simply keeping his feet in time with the music as he directed the two of them around in a small circle, Kyle naturally having to follow his actions in order to avoid being dragged around. Stan didn’t bother to glance down at his feet to correct him: he merely tried to move the two of them in a way where Kyle could feel the beat first throughout his whole body, trying to take his focus off trying to step right in time with the music. 

It was once Kyle brought his eyes up from his shoes that things really began to pick up. Ike began to play faster, and in doing so, the two of them moved accordingly to keep up. Their slow, walking steps were a thing of the past. They began to cover more ground as they seemed to float over the empty area, Stan no longer having to lead Kyle’s steps.  
It was funny: Stan had danced countless times with partners from all over the kingdom- noblewomen and professionals alike- but those grand banquets and balls now seemed to lack… something. 

Maybe it was the amazing song that Ike composed. Maybe it was the fact that Kyle was catching on so quickly to the dance form. Or… maybe it was just the smile he was finally able to put on Kyle’s face. 

Maybe that was the something. 

….

“Hey; what’s that Jew doing dancing with that Christian over there?” A familiar deep voice called out. Stan and Kyle directed their gaze over to Ike’s side where they saw two people walking towards them with grins on their faces, both Kyle and Stan wondering just how long they had been standing there. 

“Jesus; it’s like Ike put a spell on you guys with his violin.” Cartman smirked. 

Stan raised an eyebrow at him, “What are you talking about?” 

Once Kenny made his way up to them, he put a hand on Stan’s shoulder and shook his head, “Dude: he stopped playing minutes ago, but you guys just kept going.” 

Stan and Kyle exchanged estranged glances. 

“He did?” Kyle questioned, speaking exactly what was on Stan’s mind. 

Kenny and Cartman looked at each other and then back at Ike, nodding. 

“Yeah: he did.” Kenny stated, “But hey, Kyle, for someone who says they suck at dancing, you looked like you had a pretty decent idea of what you were doing.” 

Kyle let out a laugh as he scratched the back of his neck, directing his eyes towards the ground. “Ha, yeah; I guess it’s not as bad as I thought…” 

 

The five of them stood together in the empty quarter and began to strike up a conversation, most of which consisted of Kenny and Cartman catching up with Ike about what was going on in his life, something they would rarely get the chance to do under normal circumstances. Stan’s participation in the talk was less than minimal, seeing as Ike’s music was still fresh in his mind, and he figured that it must’ve been for Kyle as well, seeing as he nearly remained silent for all of it too. Yet eventually after Ike had left and headed for home, the conversation made its way back around to the purpose of Stan and Kyle’s late lesson, the boys being addressed head on and thus, compelled to take part in the chat.

“So how much do you know now? Like, can you read every Hebrew letter in the Old Testament?” The blonde asked as they began to make their way closer to the ghetto walls where Kyle would soon depart from them. 

“Kenny, you can’t call it the ‘Old Testament’: Jews hate that.” Eric corrected.

“Why?” The light haired boy asked curiously. 

“Because if you say there’s an ‘Old’ Testament, that implies that there’s a new one too, and that's something that they don’t count as part of their dogma.” The Bishop said confidently, a smile forming on his face. “And also because Jews are nitpicky as fuck.” He tacked on, receiving a playful elbow to the ribs from the tired redhead who walked beside him. 

“Okay smartass; what do we call it, then? The part of the bible the Christians call the Old Testament?” Kyle asked, challenging the religious figure. 

Cartman appeared to be thinking as he ran his fingers along his bare chin, waiting for the answer to come to him.

“Come on, Kahl; that’s a cheap shot. How often do you think I have to use that word?” The brunette complained, Kyle merely shrugging, the smirk still etched on his face. “But... from what I remember, isn't it an acronym for a bunch of other Hebrew words? And it starts with a T?”

After Cartman’s explanation, Stan searched Kyle’s face for a response, and a positive one it was. Kyle’s smirk turned into a genuine smile as he began to nod, Stan’s brows beginning to furrow. 

“Huh; I’m actually really impressed. I didn’t think you’d remember that much about the word _Tanakh_.” He said with perfect pronunciation. “Maybe you should takes notes from Cartman, Stan. He seems to have a pretty good grasp on our culture.” Kyle stated, giving the dark haired boy a raise of his eyebrow. 

Stan rolled his eyes in return, acting as though the statement didn’t bother him when, in fact, perhaps it had. Maybe a little more than he'd like to admit. 

“Yeah Stan; if you ever need some Jewish etiquette lessons, like on knowing the right way to sneak into a ghetto without permission, just come to me. Oh but wait… you don’t really need my advice on that, do you?” Eric said with a comical tone, the statement making Kenny laugh and Kyle have to repress a smile. 

“Alright, alright; he gets the point, dude.” Kyle brushed off, glancing over at Cartman. “But in all seriousness, we’re actually pretty close to being done the whole alphabet. In a few days we’ll even be able to start vowels.” Kyle explained, “Stan’s a pretty fast learner, especially for a knight.” 

Kyle’s last comment caught the attention of all the boys there, the raven haired boy feeling Kenny and Cartman’s eyes on him as he digested the redhead’s words. 

“’Especially for a knight?’” Stan repeated. “Dude, what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, suddenly feeling his confidence shake. 

“Come on Stan, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Kyle tried to cover up, searching the black haired boy’s eyes for understanding. 

The black haired boy bit his lip, “No dude, I know what you meant by it.” He said in a lower voice than he wanted. Stan laughed to himself as he shook his head, “But I guess the only way to get a rep is to earn it first, right?”

Kyle shook his head, “No, Stan, stop. I seriously didn’t mean for that to come out harshly. I know that you guys aren’t all like that, especially not you.” 

Stan let out a bitter laugh, “Kyle, it’s fine: you don’t need to vouch for me. I mean, if I was any different, then why am I still stuck having to learn how to write in Hebrew in the first place?” He asked rhetorically. “To pay off a debt I made because I was a dumbass one too many times, and I can’t blame you for calling that out.” 

But before Stan could even take in a new breath, he felt a light hand on his shoulder, a touch which made him pick his head right back up. 

“Well, at least if you want to keep thinking you’re a dumbass, at least know that you’re a dumbass who knows how to take responsibility.” Kyle said with a soft smile, “And one that can write pretty damn good Hebrew.” 

His last comment could do nothing other than put a smile on the black haired boy’s face, Stan even letting out a laugh. 

“Thanks, dude.” 

For the moment, Stan almost forgot that Cartman and Kenny were still there, that was, until Cartman cleared his throat loudly. 

“Are you guys good now?” The brunette interjected, darting his eyes back and forth between the two of them. Kyle and Stan nodded wordlessly to each other, the gesture speaking for itself.

“Okay good. I was getting worried that Kyle was gonna have to write up a _get_ for you guys.” Cartman said with an elevated eyebrow, Kyle rolling his eyes in return. 

“Okay, now you’re just showing off.” The redhead replied quickly. “But actually, Cartman, you got me thinking about something that you guys all might find interesting.”  
The three boys turned to each other and gave each other curious looks before turning back to Kyle. 

“What is it?” Stan asked. 

Kyle ran his hand through his thick, curly hair as he laughed to himself, appearing to be taking some time to think before he spoke again. “Well… I’m not sure if I should actually be showing you guys this, but I think it’d be a good learning experience for you all, and especially for Stan who’s going to have to know all about sacred texts.” 

“Kyle! Stop being a teacher and tell us what the hell you’re talking about.” Cartman cut him off impatiently. 

Kyle rolled his eyes at Cartman before turning and addressing all of them, a smile etched on his face.

“Just follow me: I’ll explain everything when we get there.” 

 

…  
“You know Kyle, it’s way past your bedtime.” Cartman reminded him as the four boys trudged along a scarcely used road, judging by the grass and stones that seemed to have overrun the path. 

Kyle ignored his comment as he continued to lead them forward, his mission seeming more important than his missing out on sleep. Stan looked down at his shoes, shoes which were supposed to be preserved in good quality so they could be ready to be worn for any occasion, even an occasion at the castle, but in the muddy state they were in, they were hardly acceptable to be worn inside the house.

“Uh… dude, are we almost there?” Stan asked, unable to hide an uneasy look on his face as he thought about how much effort it would take to clean his footwear later.

Kyle nodded from his position ahead of them, “Yeah; we’re really close guys. I promise.” He said with certainty. The four of them meandered the path for a few more minutes until they heard an abrupt call from the redhead.

“Ah ha! Yes; I found it! Okay guys, we’re here now.” Kyle said with excitement, holding back an overgrown tree branch that blocked the end of the path, revealing a large gate that laid ahead of them. 

“…Why did you sound so surprised about that?” Cartman questioned with a raised eyebrow. Kyle rubbed the back of his neck and let out an uncertain laugh,

“Well… I haven’t been here for a long time, so I was sort of still hoping it was where I remembered it was.” He admitted with an uneven smile. 

“Goddammit Kyle…” The brunette said, shaking his head. 

“Whatever; we’re here now, so it’s fine guys.” Kenny interjected, turning his eyes away from Cartman and towards the large, dark grey gate that stood before them. “Huh- so you wanted to show us a cemetery?” The blonde asked, smiling to himself as he observed the daunting-looking gate crowned with an oversized Star of David emblem. 

Kyle wavered his hand in the air, “…Kind of.” He replied, still seeming to have something else on his mind. Without any further explanation, the redhead reached forward and brushed off a thin layer of dust that had formed on the handle before yanking it open, the door creaking loudly as it swung open in front of them. 

Kyle stepped inside the gated Jewish cemetery and the three boys followed closely behind, using only the light of the full moon to illumine their steps. As Stan looked around, he noticed some stark differences between this cemetery and the ones he’d seen as his life. These tombstones seemed much more modest, having written on them longer descriptions than what he was accustomed to, but were also placed much closer together. As expected, the inscriptions were in Hebrew rather than Latin, and there wasn’t a cross to be found. The crowdedness gave an eerier feel to the whole place, but at the same time, the modesty was also humbling, which was in direct opposition to the elaborate and over decorated tombstones that the Kings and noblemen were granted. 

Stan was taken away from his thoughts by the crack of a twig caused by one of the boys, that person turning out to be Kenny, who seemed to be the most intrigued by the whole place, his eyes darting all around and observing the stones more closely than the others.

“Kyle, how come some of the tombstones are taller than other ones?” The blonde wondered, calling to the redhead who continued to lead them forward. 

“The tall ones are for the rabbis, and the rest are for everyone else.” He explained, still making his way forward. Finally, he came to a halt in front of a small tree and cleared his throat. “Alright: we’re here. This is what I wanted to show you guys.” He said, pointing to the ground directly in front of the tree. 

“Huh…Dirt. That’s… awesome Kyle, seriously.” Eric said as he leaned his hip against another nearby tree. “Oh wait, is it kosher dirt? ‘Cause _that_ would be impressive.” 

Kyle merely shook his head, not seeming to be overly surprised by Cartman’s reaction. “It’s what’s under the dirt, idiot.” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Here, I kind of want to see if you can guess what’s buried under there.” 

Cartman titled his head to the side as he gave the redhead a strange stare, “...Um, well, since we’re in a cemetery…” 

Kenny shook his head as he piped up from beside Eric, “But dude, there’s no tombstone over it.” 

Cartman narrowed his eyes at him, “Yeah, I can see that, Kenny.” He said sharply, directing his gaze back to Kyle as he crossed his own arms over his chest. 

“Kyle… is this your way of telling us that you’re a murderer who’s sick enough to bury your victims at the back of a sacred cemetery unmarked? Because, well, if you are, I guess I missed all the signs…” 

Kyle rolled his eyes in response to Cartman’s mock accusations, “Only you would think of that.” He quipped. “But no, it’s not a body. It’s actually a Torah scroll. When anything holy that’s written is worn out or damaged, instead of destroying it, you’re supposed to bury it.” He said, looking at the small tree above the barren plot. “When I was a kid, the rabbi and I came back here and buried one of the oldest scrolls in our synagogue right in this spot, and we planted that tree so we’d remember exactly where it was.” 

“Is it a sin to destroy anything with the name of God on it or something?” Eric ased, Kyle nodding as he picked up his gaze. 

“Yeah, exactly. I wish I could show you guys what a scroll looks like, but I’m not supposed to dig it up.” Kyle said with a soft voice that matched the sounds around them.

“Hey Stan, I guess that means you’ll have to sneak back into the ghetto, go into a synagogue, check out what a scroll looks like, and then report back to us. Think you can do that?” Cartman asked with a grin, Stan shaking his head. 

“You’re never going to let that one go, are you?” The black haired boy asked rhetorically Cartman giving him a wide smirk. 

“Well anyway, that’s… pretty much all I wanted to show you guys. I know it was probably kind of anti-climatic, but I know Kenny likes roaming around cemeteries and Cartman likes learning new religious stuff, so this was a way to get both.” The redhead explained to his two friends before turning back and addressing Stan. “And I figured if you wanted, you could try to read some of the tombstones.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow apprehensively, “You think I could do that?” 

Kyle nodded with certainty, “Yeah, dude; of course.” He assured, rubbing his chin for a few seconds as he appeared to be thinking. “Here; follow me.” He said as he gestured with a tilt of his head, Stan complying with his intent to follow. 

Kyle led the two of them through a series of smaller tombstones until they came to a large, darker one that towered over the others, the stone covered in a small mound of pebbles for reasons Stan couldn't even begin to guess. Stan leaned in closer to get a better look, squinting at the somewhat worn out lettering.

“So this is a rabbi’s headstone?” He asked, taking into consideration the large size. 

“Yeah. You can also tell because it says _ha-rav_ here, see? That means the rabbi.” He pointed, Stan nodding as he recognised all but one of the letters. “I want you to read the name, though. You can sound it out if it’s easier.” 

The black haired boy nodded as he placed his finger on the stone and began to move it from right to left, sounding out the letters as he went. 

“Alright so… M-r-d-ch-i, and then… b-n… L-v-i…v… N-a-a-m-i.” He finalised, taking a breath. “Jesus: that was probably a lot harder than it should’ve been.” He said with a sigh, “So wait, what did I just read?” 

“You just read my grandfather’s tombstone. My Hebrew name, Mordechai, is based off of his name.” Kyle stated, Stan quirking an eyebrow his way.

“Dude, your grandfather was a rabbi?” 

Kyle nodded, “Yup, and a really smart one too.” 

Stan couldn’t help but smile back at him, “I guess it makes sense that you were named after him, then.” 

Kyle gave him a warm smile in response, but before he could reply, Cartman and Kenny came waltzing over, greeting them with dramatic yawns. 

“Alright; we’re ready to go.” Kenny declared, looking directly at Kyle. “And you better know how to get us back to the square, because there’s no way in hell I’d make it back without getting lost in the woods and then falling off a cliff or something.” 

Cartman rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.” 

Kenny laughed to himself, “You’d be surprised, dude.” 

Kyle nodded as he turned in Kenny’s direction, “Don’t worry: I know my way back.” He assured. “Okay, let’s get going, then.” 

As the four of them were heading out, Stan noticed a strange, strong smell coming from Eric and Kenny, more specifically, their hands. The dark haired boy turned around and looked their way, seeing that even in the dim moonlight, now accompanied by the early morning sun that was rising in the distance, there was something strange there.  
“Hey, what’s that on your hands?” He asked, causing Kyle to turn around and look too, the redhead shaking his head. 

“Goddammit you guys- what did you do?” 

Cartman rolled his eyes and lifted up his hand to display, “Calm down, Jew; it’s just yellow shit from dandelions. Kenny thought it’d be nice if we picked some flowers and put them on some tombstones that looked like they hadn’t had any attention for a while. I put some on top of the Torah too.” 

“Oh…” Kyle said softly. “That’s actually… pretty thoughtful.” 

Kenny smiled back warmly at Kyle, “No problem, dude. But now can you just take us back before the sun’s completely up so I can get, oh, I don’t know, an hour of sleep maybe?” He said with the raise of an eyebrow, Kyle giving him an awkward grin in return. 

“Well… maybe you’ll get half an hour- it’s still pretty far. Sorry about that, Kenny.” Kyle apologised. 

“Nah, it’s fine. This was pretty fun, actually.” Kenny said jovially. “And Stan, you make a pretty good fourth to our group.” The blonde said as he turned his way, the black haired boy flashing him a smile. 

“Yeah, you’re alright," Cartman said, giving Stan a quick nudge, "You know, even if you are a King’s bitch.” 

 

As the sun began to rise higher and higher in the sky and the four of them walked back to one of the few places they could all meet together, Stan couldn’t help but notice a sad, disappointed look on Kyle’s face. An almost… pained look. 

“You okay?” Stan questioned as he came up beside him, the open square coming into view beyond the trees. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Kyle said in a low tone. “It’s just… Ugh, never mind.” He brushed off, keeping his eyes forward. 

“No, dude, come on. What is it?” Stan pried. Kyle stopped in his tracks and spun around quickly, noticing that Kenny and Cartman were talking a fair distance behind them. The redhead let out a sigh before he spoke again.

“It’s just… It’s just so stupid that it has to be like this.” He said roughly, Stan knowing exactly what he meant. “...Stan, it shouldn't have to be like this forever. It can’t...” 

Stan gulped, “Kyle… that’s the way it’s been for years. It’s bullshit, but you know how people in our town are. I don’t think they’ll ever change the way they think.” 

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the raven haired boy and shook his head. “No. You’re wrong. Or at least... I'd like to think you are.” He sighed. “I know it’s a stretch, but there has to be a way to get people to change their minds; I just... I just think we haven’t found the right way to do it yet.” 

“…So what’s the right way?” Stan asked hesitantly. 

“I'm...not sure yet. But we need to figure out what it is, not just for my sake, or the sake of future generations of my people, but for all of our sakes." Kyle said with a frown, his optimism struggling to remain. "Wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't everyone? To have what we do?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah. I would." He sighed before placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "We.. we'll figure something out, or at least we'll try." 

Kyle picked up his eyebrow, "Do you really mean that?" 

"Yeah. I do." He said with a grin. "And hey, maybe one day having a group of friends like ours can be normal, or at least, having someone like you. 'Cause that'd be enough." 

Kyle couldn't help but smile as he shook his head, his bright green eyes locking with Stan's. "Well, I'll hold you to that, then. The promise about at least trying to do something about all this." 

Stan nodded, "Sure; I'll try as much as I can." 

"And that's all I could ever ask."


	11. Chapter 11

It was official. Stan could now say that without a doubt, his favourite place in the kingdom had become the merchant’s quarter, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Sure, he loved the lakes, rivers and streams that surrounded the town, the wide open fields to the west where he would sometimes sit and watch as coyotes and foxes run around at dusk, the spacious castle grounds where he spent so much of his time doing weapons practice or on horseback riding around the perimeter, but all of these places lacked one fundamental thing: people he could actually relate to. 

It was even surprising to Stan how fast his friendships developed with this new group that he found, and although he knew he still couldn’t let his guard down completely around all of them, he knew for certain that he could with one; one particular guy that gave him a chance that no one else would have, and a guy who could see his potential even when he couldn’t. 

Kyle sleepily observed Stan’s careful strokes as he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes from time to time as the sun began to rise overhead, the mornings starting to get brighter and brighter with each passing day. It had been a few weeks now since their sessions began, and at this point Stan was way beyond just knowing how to write the alphabet; in fact, he was now onto writing practice scrolls themselves, learning how to condense his writing so that it could fit on the tiny mezuzah scroll. Kyle didn’t often express his whether or not he was impressed by Stan’s progress, but Stan could tell by his recent lack of criticism that he was doing pretty okay, or at least, he’d like to hope he was. 

Stan smiled at Kyle as he watched both of his eyes shut completely, the redhead appearing to be totally zoned out. As Stan finished up his final practice sentence of the morning, a playful idea popped into his mind. Instead of tapping Kyle on the shoulder to wake him, the black haired boy had a better idea. Stan slowly but surely approached his ear, holding in his laughter as he practically placed his lips onto the skin, and whispered directly into it. 

“Kyle: it’s time to get up.” The raven haired boy said softly. Immediately after the words hit his ear, Kyle sprung back to life, his eyes wide with surprise. It took him a second to realise what had just gone on, and when he did, he merely shoved Stan to the side, rubbing his eyes as he recovered fully. 

“Jesus Christ- why’d you have to do that? You couldn’t have just shaken me like a normal person?” The redhead said in a sleepy voice. 

Stan couldn't help but smile. “See, I guess I could've done that, but then I would’ve missed the look you made just now.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Well, that face was probably better than the one I had when I was sleeping. My brother says I look like a corpse when I sleep.” 

Stan shook his head, thinking back at how peaceful Kyle looked with his head titled to the side and his mouth slightly agape. 

“No dude; you just looked relaxed.” Stan told him, recalling his observation. “Maybe you should try it out more often.” 

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow Stan’s way, “What, are you saying I always look uptight?” 

Stan shrugged, “Your words, not mine.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, “Let’s just clean up: we can finish early today.” 

“You don’t want to check over what I wrote?” The black haired boy asked, pushing the tiny piece of parchment Kyle’s way. The redhead shook his head. 

“It’s fine dude: I was watching you for a while, and your writing looked good. You barely even need my supervision anymore.” Kyle assured, pushing the paper back to Stan. 

“You mean you won’t need to be here to watch me when I write the actual scrolls?” The raven haired boy asked, his tone slightly disappointed. 

Kyle laughed to himself, “I said barely. I think it’ll still be a while before you fully know what you’re doing.” 

Stan nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. “Yeah, that’s true; it’ll probably take a while.” 

Kyle flashed him a closed mouth smile, looking as though he was able to read his mind. “Uh huh. I bet it will.” 

In no time, the table was almost fully cleared off with all of the writing supplies gathered and stowed properly into one bag that Stan would take home and practice with, or at least… that was the intention. Stan did practice from time to time, just not quite as much as Kyle would’ve liked, and it didn’t take the redhead long to learn when he was bullshitting him. If Stan hadn’t been improving as quickly as he was, Kyle would’ve certainly had something to say, but luckily for him, he had a strange natural talent for the calligraphy. Or maybe it was just the way it was being taught. 

As Kyle placed the final bottle of ink into the bag, both of the boys heard a voice from behind them that made them nearly jump out of their skins, neither of them having ever been caught doing their lessons by anyone other than their friends. 

“Playing a bit of dressup, are we?” A voice only familiar to Stan called out. The black haired boy gulped as he spun around, seeing that it was exactly who he thought it was. 

“Sir Marchand.” Stan said in a surprised tone, getting down on one knee as he bowed to greet the Parisian knight. He was dressed like he always was: in the same kind of puffy sleeves and tights that Stan was accustomed too, only much more elaborate than most, and adorned with excessive jewelry to boot. He wore his sword like an accessory, having slung masterfully over his shoulder in an elaborately decorated sheath. The man had a stature that was slightly taller than most knights, but a great deal taller than Kyle. His hair was a dark brown that matched his eyes, eyes that seemed playful despite the many wars and atrocities he would have seen in his lifetime. 

The middle aged man stood with a smile on his face as he watched Stan take a bow, Kyle following suit shortly after, trying to avoid transgressing any social norms, especially not knowing any of the customs in the Christian world and what the consequences were for breaking them. 

“Why Stanley, what on earth are you doing here, and at this hour?” Sir Marchand wondered, eyeing the area curiously. A few moments later, his eyes stumbled upon Kyle’s table, along with the bag of writing tools, some of which were sticking out. “Oh! I think I see what’s going on. Is this all for some sort of writing lesson?” 

Stan laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Ha, yeah, kind of…” 

“You, sir.” Sir Marchand said confidently, addressing Kyle. Kyle’s eyes picked up and met M. Marchand’s, trying to mask the look of anxiety etched on his face. 

“Me?” Kyle asked, taken off guard. “Uh, sir.” He finished, not forgetting his formalities. 

“Would you happen to be Mr. Marsh’s writing instructor? Ordained by the King to teach Stanley some extra skills to further improve his abilities?” Sir Marchand wondered, arms crossed across his chest as he leaned to one side and smiled. 

Kyle let out a similar nervous laugh to the one Stan had made earlier. “Well, I wasn’t ordained by the King, but yes, I am Stan’s writing instructor.” He confirmed. “Only the goal of my lessons are not to improve his Latin, but rather to teach him Hebrew.” 

Both Stan’s and M. Marchand’s eyes went wide at Kyle’s statement, each of them for very different reasons. 

“Hebrew, _hein_? Huh… How very interesting.” Sir Marchand noted, running his fingers along his bare chin. “Stanley, what is it exactly that caused you to seek out a Hebrew teacher, if I may ask?” 

Stan looked like a deer in headlights, still trying to figure out why Kyle even bothered to dish out the bit about which language they were learning, Stan knowing full well that learning Hebrew was not at all a common practice among Christians, let alone knights. 

“Actually, sir, Stan sought me out because since he was already so skilled with his Latin handwriting, he figured that he was ready for a new challenge. And come to think of it, I think he also mentioned how he wished to be able to read the whole _tana_ —err, Old Testament, in it’s original language.” Kyle said, his explanation surprisingly solid. Stan nodded at everything Kyle had said and turned his gaze back to the older knight, watching and waiting for his reaction. 

“ _Mon dieu_! That is quite impressive, I must say, Stanley, to have such a lofty goal as this one. I know that I myself struggled a great deal with German, so I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to learn one not even written in the right characters.” He said with a smile, Kyle and Stan both letting out sighs of relief. 

Stan let out a more genuine laugh, “Thank you, sir. But I have to agree with you: it’s definitely not something that comes easy.” He admitted, trying to sound more formal than usual around his superior. 

“Indeed. But if you write half as good as you joust, I’m sure you can overcome the task.” Sir Marchand chuckled. “But speaking of that, Mr. Marsh, you’re not planning on coming to my banquet tonight in those garments, are you?” He asked, eyeing Stan’s tunic with an uncomfortable look.

Stan shook his head, “No, sir. I was planning on heading home to change right after my lesson.” 

Sir Marchand nodded, “Right right; good then.” He said, a contemplative look forming on his face as he paused to think for a good little while. “…Actually, Mr. Marsh, I have a better idea! With you being my honoured guest, it would only make sense that you prepare yourself in the proper quarters.” 

Stan quirked an eyebrow, “The proper quarters?” 

Sir Marchand nodded, “Yes, yes. I mean at the palace, of course. The King set aside a lovely guest home for me right on the grounds there, and it would only be suiting that you make yourself up there. I could even ask my servants to go into town and pick out some new clothing for you and your guest.” He explained with enthusiasm, that is, before stopping himself for a moment as another thought entered his mind. “Mr. Marsh, who is the guest you’re bringing?” 

Stan broke eye contact from him for a moment as he answered, “I… couldn’t really find anyone who was available for tonight, unfortunately.” He said with a fake laugh, trying to lighten up the bad news. 

Sir Marchand’s smile fell off as he bit his lower lip and began to shake his head. “Mmm… that’s not good, not good at all…” He dragged on. “How can I have my guest of honour just--- oh, wait! Ha! Why didn’t this come to mind earlier? Silly me. Why don’t you bring your scribe along? He must be quite talented if of all the scribes you sought him out specifically.” 

Stan felt a lump form in his throat, feeling Kyle’s eyes burning into the back of his head without him having to even turn around. 

“Yeah, he is very talented, but---”

“Yes, yes; I’m aware that inviting a scribe, and setting him at the head table of all places, isn’t usually the custom in this kingdom by any means, but for you, Stanley, I am willing to make that exception, don’t you worry.” He assured with a large grin, turning his attention to Kyle. “What say you, my boy?” 

Kyle forced yet another laugh, “Well, sir, I really am flattered, but---”

“No, no! No ‘buts’. I insist!” He said jovially, wrapping his arms around both of the guys. “Come now- I’m sure your other students will understand when you tell them that you were busy attending a banquet held in honour of Sir Vincent Marchand. And plus, I’m sure you could do with a new set of clothes and good shaving, my boy.” He noted, eyeing Kyle’s stubble that lined his chin. 

“…Sir, again, I’m thrilled that you want me to attend, but---”

Sir Marchand rolled his eyes, “Scribe; now you’re just insulting me. And trust me, that’s the last thing you want to do to a man with the swordsmanship skills I have, _hein_?” He laughed heartily, his joke not as funny to Kyle and Stan as it was to him. “No: it is decided. Come at once, boys! It’ll probably take more than one cleaning to get the filth off of you after wearing those… things all morning.” He declared, taking a step in front of them and beckoning them to follow. 

Kyle and Stan stared at each other with a look of concern both of them didn’t know the other could make. 

“…Stan.” Kyle whispered, his voice quaking. “What the _hell_ am I going to do?” 

Stan gulped, his head buzzing with too many worries to even begin to think clearly. “I… I don’t think there’s anything we can do. You can’t not go, dude. This guy has way too much power over both of us for us to deny him… pretty much anything.” 

Stan watched as Kyle shook his head, each of his steps becoming more hesitant than the next as they approached the boundary line that separated the merchant’s quarter from the Christian side of the kingdom. 

“If I get caught…” 

“No.” Stan interrupted. “You… you can’t get caught. I won’t let that happen. It can’t.” 

Kyle laughed bitterly to himself, “Yeah? But what if it does? Then what? The best case scenario is that I go to jail, and… I don’t want to think of the worst…” 

Stan swallowed hard, unable to deny that those worries were running rampant through his mind too, but he had to at least pretend like Kyle would be okay. Because… Stan really didn’t want to even toy with the possibility that he wouldn’t be. He couldn’t. 

“No.” Stan repeated, shaking the horrible thoughts out of his head. “All you need to do is lay low and stick with me the whole day; I’ll guide you through everything.” 

“This thing’s going to go on all day?” Kyle asked wide-eyed. 

Stan shook his head, “No; it won’t start until around noon. They’re just going to dress us first, like he said, and… they’re probably going to do something to your hair.” He said honestly. The redhead placed a hand on top of his thick curls and laughed to himself, likely more out of stress than anything else.

“Actually, I hope they do. I’d probably stand out like a sore thumb if they didn’t.” Kyle reasoned, Stan nodding in response. 

“Yeah; I guess it’ll be safer for you.” The black haired boy said in agreement. “…It’s kind of too bad, though.” Stan added honestly, waiting for Kyle’s reaction, knowing at this point in their friendship that Kyle wasn’t overly fond of the way his hair looked for reasons Stan never understood. 

The raven haired boy watched as Kyle shook his head at the comment, Stan unable to miss the smile he was trying to repress. 

A few seconds later, though, the atmosphere changed. The three men approached the chapel, the chapel that Kyle had been accused of crossing the line with before, his table having been flipped for such a transgression. Both Kyle and Stan held their breath as they made their way past it- the church representing the final checkpoint before they entered the only world Stan new existed until a few weeks prior: the Christian realm. 

“…Fuck.” Stan heard Kyle say under his breath, reality hitting him hard as he rerealised what he was really doing. Once Stan saw the terrified look on his face, he bit his lip, knowing that he had to take his mind off of his thoughts somehow, understanding full well that this was probably the single most risky thing he’d ever done in his life, and that… he might ever do again. 

Unbeknownst to Sir Marchand, the moment Stan and Kyle crossed that line in their tunics, the two of them started to receive the harshest of stares Stan had ever experienced, and the deeper they got into the core of the town, the more frequent and harder the stares became. 

“I must say, people really don’t seem to like your outfits, boys.” Sir Marchand spoke up from in front of them, oblivious to the connotations the clothing held. Kyle and Stan slowed their pace and made a bit more space between the head knight and themselves, Kyle pulling Stan towards him to whisper something. 

“I’m sorry, but is he actually that stupid?” Kyle asked in a nearly undetectable tone right up against Stan’s ear. 

Stan couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, “Yeah, dude. He really doesn’t get it.” 

“How can he not?” Kyle questioned, dumbfounded. 

Stan shrugged, “It kind of makes sense. If he’s been living in the castle all his life and the only time he’s ever left was to go to war with other knights, then that’s all he knows. He’s probably never even seen a Jew.” Stan explained, keeping his voice as low as he could manage.

“At least not knowingly.” He scoffed. “Like Jesus, he found out that I was teaching you Hebrew and he still didn’t catch on.” 

Stan furrowed his eyebrows at the redhead as he remembered that moment fresh in his mind again. 

“Hey, yeah. Why’d you tell him that anyways?” Stan asked a little harshly.

“Dude; I had to. If he would’ve taken one look in my bag, he would’ve seen that what we were writing clearly wasn’t Latin.” Kyle defended. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think he would’ve known it was Hebrew.” Stan said bluntly. 

Kyle laughed to himself, “Yeah, well I didn’t know I was dealing with someone who was that much of a…” 

“A knight?” Stan filled in for him, Kyle unable to conceal his smile. 

“Your words, not mine.” Kyle said, paralleling what Stan said to him earlier that day. “And plus, I had a good cover up anyway. Those were always the excuses I had in my head that I was going to use if we were ever confronted about the lessons. All of this would’ve been perfectly fine if this banquet wasn’t today.” 

Stan shook his head, “Kyle; I had no idea this was going to happen…” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Yeah, I know. I’m not blaming you, it’s just… bad luck I guess.” 

“Yeah, really bad luck...” Stan gulped. 

“Uh huh.” Kyle swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on Sir Marchand instead of paying attention to the stares they were getting from passersby, something Stan started to do as well, tired of the glares. 

“We’ll be there soon. Hopefully once we’re out of these and dressed like Christians, there won’t be any problems fitting in.” Stan said with fake optimism he hoped sounded more believable than it felt. 

Kyle let out a scoff, “Yeah, easy for you to say. You _are_ one of them. You won’t have to put on an act all day.” He said sourly, shaking his head. “This is going to be way different than when you entered the Jewish quarter.” 

Stan nodded solemnly. “I know.” 

A short while later, the boys arrived at the castle grounds. Up until that time, they had merely passed through a series of shops and peasant homes, but now they were entering Stan’s world; a world of horses, armour, and strict chivalrous codes, none of which Kyle was familiar with. Stan let out a sigh of relief as he came to realise that at least Kyle would be introduced as a scribe, and that alone could account for most of the reasons as to why he didn’t understand the social constructs and etiquette that everyone else was going to be displaying. He just hoped it would explain enough.

Stan watched as Kyle’s eyes went wide with awe as they finally approached the castle entrance, having made their way down a deserted road for quite some time before actually reaching it. 

The gate alone towered over both of them, probably to heights Kyle didn’t even know could be constructed. His eyes went downward to the mote that flowed around the perimeter of the castle, the drawbridge having been lowered just for them with a simple wave of Sir Marchand’s hand to the men on the other side of the bridge who worked laboriously to turn the crank and lower it. 

“Is it more impressive than castle you’ve ever seen, scribe?” Sir Marchand chuckled, observing Kyle’s awestruck expression. 

Kyle laughed to himself, “Yes, it is, sir. I…would definitely say that.”

“Yes… it is quite nice, isn’t it? Not nearly as large as the castle is where I come from, but for your little kingdom, it most certainly serves its purpose. Just don’t tell the King I said that.” He said with a wink to the both of them. Once the bridge was down, Stan began to feel a knot form in his throat once again, realising that although Sir Marchand didn’t recognise their attire, the King and any other authority figure in there would surely know what it was that their clothing stood for, and they most certainly wouldn’t approve, to put it mildly. 

Stan bit his lip, knowing he had to think fast. 

“Sir, can I make a suggestion?” The black haired boy asked abruptly, them having made their way to the middle of the bridge. 

“A suggestion? And what would you be suggesting, Stanley?” The knight said in a light voice. 

Stan looked down at the water before he spoke, thinking that if worse came to worse that they could just jump in the mote, follow it to the narrow river entrance, and just swim away… the only problem being is that he had no idea how to swim, and he had to assume Kyle didn’t either. 

“I…I was thinking that instead of going right through the long castle corridor to get to your quarters, what if we went through the gardens instead? I think Ky---my scribe, would like that a lot more. There aren’t too many gardens as beautiful as this one anywhere in the kingdom.” Stan reasoned, hoping to god he could sell the idea before they approached the end of the bridge. 

The older knight paused a few good seconds before coming to a conclusion, placing his hands on his hips as he nodded.

“That is true, Stanley. Your castle may be small, but your gardens really have made a name for themselves all over the country. Again, of course not as elaborate as our gardens, but they are nice nonetheless.” He boasted. “Scribe, what say you? Would you prefer a walk through the gardens?” Sir Marchand asked, turning around. 

Stan nodded strongly to Kyle, him catching on immediately. 

“Uh, yes! That sounds wonderful. I…I’ve heard great things about the greenery here and I’ve actually told Stan before how much I’ve wanted to take stroll around them.” He said, forcing a look of excitement into his eyes. 

“Well then today’s your lucky day, my boy! It is settled then.” He declared, just in time too. The two guards at the foot of the bridge looked at both Kyle and Stan with the same harsh glares that they received as they walked through the city centre, but as soon as they saw Sir Marchand, they stood at attention and took their attention off Stan and Kyle. They watched as the high ranking knight led both of the boys right past them and onto the stony path that would lead right to the gardens, Stan sighing a massive sigh of relief on Kyle’s behalf. 

The walk towards the gardens was one that Stan was familiar with, but as for Kyle, it was something totally new. Kyle looked as though he wished he could’ve enjoyed the view, seeing as every few minutes he would stop and smile at an arrangement that was particularly nice, but as for most of the time, he, like Stan, simply kept his eyes peeled for any signs of castle life. The boys had been lucky in not seeing anyone so far, but that was most likely due to the fact that it was still rather early in the morning. 

With Sir Marchand’s temporary quarters visible in the distance, Stan and Kyle could breathe another long sigh as they took their final steps down the manicured stony path and up to the entrance of his dwelling. Once the two crossed the boundary line into his home, they felt a false sense of relief wash over them, both of them knowing that this was only the beginning of one of the longest nights they’d ever have to endure.

When the boys entered, as instructed by Sir Marchand, they were taken by servants into private rooms to be made up. Like many cleansing baths Stan had experienced before, the servants took him into a room with a simple basin and washed him down, using an excessive amount of strong smelling soap on every square inch of his body. Stan never liked how strong he smelled after the baths were finished, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Kyle was going to feel the same way. He had a feeling he would. 

After the washing, the black haired boy was taken into another room and dressed into brand new clothing that had been picked out for them just that day, as the servant’s kept emphasising. Normally Stan would pick colours like brown and red or brown and blue for his formal attire, so when Stan saw the clothes he was about to put on, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Purple and gold seemed to be the colours of choice, something he wouldn’t personally pick out, but after having been convinced by the female servants of just how nice he looked in them, he started to feel more confident. 

With his hair slicked back and a fresh shave given to his face, Stan was now ready, new clothes and all, to embark on the evening, one that he hoped he could laugh at later and remember it as ‘the one where we got away’, not wanting to think about the other possibility. 

The black haired boy waited for what seemed like many minutes in a lofty waiting area, making himself comfortable in one of the King’s many decorative chairs that were found all over the castle grounds. The King had a collection of chairs from all over Europe as well as the Far East and went to extreme lengths to find them, something he was known for throughout the kingdom. The chair Stan sat in matched his outfit, and he couldn’t help but feel rather ridiculous while sitting on it. He stood up and continued to wait until finally, Kyle emerged from his changing room. 

Stan had to sit back down. 

The redhead came out dressed like instead of attending a royal ball, he could’ve passed for blue blood himself. His puffy sleeved, over adorned top was a red and gold one, colours that highlighted his hair and reminded Stan of a lion, the powerful and commanding colours suiting Kyle well. Kyle’s hair was slicked back so it would stay down, Stan glad that it didn’t look like they cut any of it off. Another change was that Kyle’s face was completely bare, something that took Stan aback for a few seconds as he observed his whole look together. The last thing he noticed only came to his attention when the redhead turned around for a few seconds to address the servants that called to him from behind, Stan getting a glimpse of Kyle’s backside for what seemed like the first time in his life. With the redhead wearing tunics all the time, Stan couldn’t help but be taken aback for a second as he caught himself staring at how Kyle looked in form fitting red tights, the thought exciting him to a degree he didn’t quite understand. Stan had to cast his eyes away from him, not wanting his own tights to give away just how excited his thoughts were, his face growing hot with embarrassment as he realised his own actions. 

Kyle kept touching his slicked back hair as he made his way over to Stan’s side of the room where he could wait in the chairs with him, the redhead letting out a sigh as he flopped down in a navy blue one next to Stan. 

“The servants said that Sir Marchand won’t be ready for a while now and that we just have to sit here and be patient. Apparently it still doesn’t start for a few hours.” Kyle explained, his gaze fixed on a large painting on the wall of a naked lady in a forest, an off-putting look stretched across on his face. 

“Yeah; he seems like the type of guy that would take a while to get ready.” Stan said, still eyeing Kyle’s unusual dress. “…So, what do you think of your new look?” Stan had to ask.  
Kyle rolled his bright green eyes, eyes that stood out even more with the contrasting red. “What does it look like I think of it? It’s ridiculous. I don't know how you guys decided that this is normal.” Kyle ridiculed, adjusting the sleeves nervously. 

“You get used it to.” Stan shrugged. 

It took the boys a few minutes to rerealise the direness of their situation, waiting tensely as they watched the castle staff move in and out of the dressing area, no one giving them a second glance. 

“Dude, they don’t suspect anything.” Stan whispered to Kyle, trying to reassure his redheaded friend, but also himself. 

Kyle nodded, a serious expression on his face. “Yeah, thank god.”

For a good while, Kyle attempted to keep calm by taking in slow, deep breaths as he stared at the wall, Stan watching painfully, guilt building up inside of him as the minutes passed by.

“…Kyle, I can’t be one hundred percent sure nothing’s going to go wrong tonight, but one thing I know is that I’ll try my hardest to make sure it doesn’t, no matter what it takes. I promise.” Stan said, trying to sound more confident than he was. 

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows as he gave the black haired boy a serious expression, “Stan, stop thinking that this is all your fault. Neither of us knew that this was going to happen today, and there’s nothing we could’ve done to prevent it. There’s really nothing we can do about it now except try and get through this day.” Kyle said, swallowing hard. “Yes, I’m scared. I’m more scared than I’ve been in a long time, but I know being scared won’t do anything except make things worse, which is the same thing blaming yourself is going to do.”

Stan nodded hesitantly, “I know. You’re right, it’s just…” 

“Dude, no.” Kyle said as he grabbed Stan’s knee and shook him slightly. “Listen to me. Whatever happens tonight, happens. You can try all you want to keep me safe, but there could be some things that come up that neither of us can control, and I’ve accepted that. Now you need to, okay?” 

Stan brought his gaze back up to Kyle and let out a long breath, finally nodding. “Yeah, okay.” 

Kyle nodded in return. “Good.” He stated, communicating a look of mutual understanding to Stan with a wordless, closed mouth smile. A short while later, Kyle starting shaking his head as he laughed to himself. “Some knight you are. I’m the one with my life on the line and I’m reassuring you. Isn’t it supposed to be other way around?” 

Stan laughed in return. “I’m not really doing my job too well, am I?” 

Kyle shook his head, “Nope. I guess I’ll have to report you to the King.” 

“Do you want me to go find him for you? I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” Stan joked. 

Kyle raised his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure he is, but see, my plan is kind of to avoid anyone in power, so… he might not be the best person to seek out.” 

“Yeah, maybe not.” Stan understated. 

As the two sat and waited, they soon started to come to terms with their fate, a fate they both realised was pretty much out of their hands at this point. Finally after stewing for what seemed like far too long, they were beckoned to take leave, the banquet beginning in the main dining hall momentarily. 

After a little walk across the castle grounds, they arrived right where they needed to, and just in time too. Many knights that Stan recognised along with their dates waited patiently to be let in, warm smiles on their faces as they looked forward to a day of celebration instead of their usual training. If Stan were to have come alone, he would have felt the same way as them, but obviously, fate had other plans.

“You ready?” Stan whispered to Kyle as they stood at the entrance of the hall, the large doors dwarfing them. 

Kyle nodded, taking a deep breath in. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Modelling after the other pairings, Stan took hold of Kyle’s arm and pulled him close, stood up straight, and looked forward as he led him inside the grand hall, Kyle surprisingly latching onto his arm tightly in return. Stan guessed that it had something to do with his overwhelming nerves, the black haired boy glad that he felt comfortable enough with him to do so. All Stan really wanted was for Kyle to know that he meant it when he said that he would try to prevent anything happening to him at all costs. Because he really did mean it. He wouldn’t let him get hurt. He couldn’t.


	12. Chapter 12

The dining hall was decorated in the same way Stan had remembered it. Blazing torches lined the walls on both sides. Large, decorative tapestries hung around the room simply to represent a display of wealth. Huge wooden tables and benches were set up to accommodate all the knights and their guests, each table ready to accept the large quantity of food that would be placed on it once the meal would begin, a meal that would last for hours into the night. Yet, despite all the similarities, there was a feeling of dread that hung in the air of the festive hall that Stan had never experienced before; a feeling he never imagined could be evoked at such a joyous occasion. Suddenly, all the people he knew and would’ve cared to impress could only be seen as threats, threats to Kyle’s safety, and, frankly, his life. 

“There’s… a lot of people here tonight.” Kyle gulped, taking in the overwhelming scenery around him, all the unfamiliar faces blurring together. 

Stan nodded, “Yeah. These things tend to get pretty… packed.” He said honestly, watching as the happy couples strolled around without a care in the world, Stan envying that level of bliss more than ever. Kyle and Stan remained quiet for a few minutes, Stan giving the redhead some time to digest what was going on, the two of them eventually meandering their way towards a wall near the back of the room, hoping that at least for now, they could go unnoticed. 

“So, what should my Christian name be?” The redhead whispered as he leaned closer to Stan, his eyes still on the lookout despite their clandestine location. The question took Stan off-guard for a moment, the black haired boy now rerealising that he couldn’t just go by ‘scribe’ all night long. 

“Oh, right. Umm, what about something like… Luke? Or Paul? You know, any New Testament name.” Stan suggested. 

“Dude, I don’t _know_ any New Testament names. That’s why I’m asking you.” Kyle said with a slight degree of agitation. 

“Alright, alright, just give me a second.” Stan told him, rubbing his freshly shaved chin as he thought, the people around him serving as quite a distraction. “How about Lucas… Kraft?” He offered up. 

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “Lucas the powerful?” 

Stan shrugged, “Yeah, why not? It suits you.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but smile despite everything that was going on around him, Stan taking that as a sign that he accepted the name. 

“Well boys, what do you think?” A loud, boisterous voice crept up from beside them, the voice belonging to no other than Sir Marchand. Both Stan and Kyle jumped at his words, the two of them more on edge than ever. 

“Oh my! I am sorry. I didn’t mean to startle either of you.” He said with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around them. 

Stan faked a laugh, “It’s alright, sir. We just didn’t see you coming.” 

Sir Marchand nodded as a smile crawled across his face. “Yes, yes; I gathered that from the way you two jumped like excitable rabbits. You seemed to be in a rather intense conversation.” He observed. “It’s funny; I don’t think I’ve ever seen a knight and his scribe ever look so… intimate.” 

Stan and Kyle looked at each other with raised eyebrows, neither of them sure what to make of the statement. 

“Ha! But no matter; I’ve got your attention now. What say we head over to the wine station at the far end, hmm? I’ll show you some of my favourites that I brought with me all the way from the vineyards back home in France.” He asked, not giving the boys much of a chance to say no, considering the way that he practically herded them over towards the station like sheep through the crowded hall, passing every kind of royalty imaginable. Stan was able to let out a sigh of relief as they passed by the gentry, glad that Kyle’s disguise, along with his fake confidence he was giving off, was more than enough to get him through the hall without even a sideways glance. 

Stan watched Kyle’s eyes enlarge as they approached the wine table, the selection of beverages for the night appearing almost endless. The smile remained on M. Marchand’s face as he neared what seemed to be his favourites, judging by the way that he snatched up the bottles and quickly searched for goblets, looking like he was truly a man on a mission. 

“Here we are,” He said proudly as he handed each of the boys a tall, silver goblet. “This one is from the South. To be perfectly honest, boys, I couldn’t tell you the types of grapes that were used, nor the process that was used to make it, but what I do know is that even after a great quantity of this, I hardly even had a headache the next day!” He laughed as he poured a considerably large amount into their cups. 

“Well, that’s the most important thing to look for in a wine.” Stan tried to joke, Kyle looking like he was doing his best not to roll his eyes. The joke seemed to be taken well by Sir Marchand, judging by the way that he slapped Stan jovially on the back. 

“Exactly, my boy!” He chuckled, swirling his wine around in the goblet. “Well, cheers to a great night full of fond memories.” He announced, raising his glass. Stan and Kyle followed suit, proclaiming ‘cheers’ along with him. 

Sir Marchand downed the glass quickly, drinking the liquid although it were water. Stan crinkled his nose as he took a sip, the wine tasting much stronger than any he’d had before, yet, he couldn’t deny that he somewhat enjoyed the intensity of the flavour. Kyle on the other hand had a look of disgust on his face that he was doing his best to mask, trying to avoid eye contact with Sir Marchand, probably as to not offend him.

Once Sir Marchand was finished his glass, a glass that Stan had to assume was not his first of the afternoon, he set the goblet down firmly on the table and addressed both of the boys.  
“Alright, well I must be off to mingle with other guests, but both of you feel free to have as much as you like, just as long as you don’t embarrass yourselves, _hein?_ ” He said with a laugh. “Oh, and of course not to the point where you’ll be falling asleep during the mass. Good day, boys!” He waved off, leaving Stan and Kyle in the wake of his latest development. 

“…There’s going to be a mass?” Kyle asked, his voice uneven. 

“I… I guess so.” Stan stated, the turn of events taking him slightly by surprise as well, seeing as it had been some time since he’d attended a formal affair and he couldn’t help but overlook something that was never a big deal to him before. 

“Dude, I…Oh god…” Kyle said as he clutched his forehead with his free hand and shook his head. It was one thing to blend in amongst a large group of people in a formal dining setting, but it was another thing for Kyle to try to blend in in a place he’d never stepped foot in in his whole life, a place he would’ve never been allowed to enter into in a million years, and Stan knew that. All the hymns, rituals, and rites would be completely unfamiliar to Kyle, but judging by the look on his face, that was something Stan could see that he already realised. The only thing the black haired boy could think to do to try to calm his nerves was to place a hand on his shoulder, lock eyes with him, and take a deep breath, hoping Kyle would reciprocate the action and it would somehow slow his heart from beating out of his chest. 

For the time being, Kyle did comply, sucking in a deep, long breath as he attempted to clear his head, looking as though he was struggling to cope with yet another bout of having to accept his fate. Once a few intense moments passed, Kyle took his hand off his forehead and regained his feigned confidence, standing up straight and fixing his posture, doing justice to the fake last name ‘Kraft’ he was given by Stan. 

The redhead looked down at the goblet of intensely strong wine in his hand that he resented before and shook his head, smiling almost hysterically to himself. 

“You know, I think I might finish this after all.” 

…  
Before the boys knew it, an announcement regarding the commencement of the mass was made. The entire assembly of people dressed in their finest clothes were hustled into the chapel, which was conveniently attached to the grand hall. Stan and Kyle lagged behind, keeping to themselves as Stan positioned them in a place in line where he made sure he didn’t recognise any faces, hoping to avoid any kind of confrontation if at all possible. 

“Just follow what everyone else is doing and you should be fine.” Stan whispered to the redhead as they began to move up in line towards the entrance of the modest sanctuary, or at least, modest by Stan’s standards. 

Kyle let out a dry laugh, “Yeah; I’ll bet that’s as easy as it sounds.” He said sarcastically. 

“Kyle, I promise it’s not that bad.” Stan tried to assure. 

Kyle couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Yeah, again, not that bad for you. I don’t know when to bend my knees and bow, or when you guys take steps forward, or cover your eyes, or go up on your toes…” He went on, his eyes wide with concern. 

“…What? Cover our eyes? Go up on our toes?” The black haired boy repeated. “Dude, we don’t do any of that.” 

Kyle quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t?” 

Stan shook his head. “Nope. All you really have to know is the sign of the cross, and it just looks like this:” Stan said as he demonstrated a gesture for Kyle he’d known even since before he could remember. 

Kyle nodded, the redhead taking his fingers and placing them in the places he could recall Stan doing so, the black haired boy giving him an off look once he finished. 

“What?” Kyle asked with furrowed brows. 

“Left side first, before the right.” Stan clarified, showing him yet again. Kyle repeated the action, this time the right way, as assured by a nod from Stan, and just in time too. The boys reached the front of the line as they filed in, Kyle looking overwhelmed yet again by the sheer height of the ceiling, the room taller than probably anything he had ever walked into before. 

The colours of the midday sun shone through the bright stained glass windows, the whole room taking on a rainbow appearance, which seemed to be alleviating some of Kyle’s nerves. Stan watched the redhead get distracted by the scenery, taking his focus off the dire stakes for even a couple moments, allowing the melody of the song being sung by the choir to flood his ears and transport him to a more peaceful place, a place where Stan wished Kyle could always feel a part of in the Christian part of town. 

With Stan in the lead, Kyle followed, the redhead trailing him until they found their seats near the back of the chapel. As they waited for everyone else to finish entering, Stan couldn’t help but peer over at Kyle, his level of discreetness being fairly low. For Stan, it was hard not to admire how bright and fiery his hair looked as it absorbed the bright colours around him, his clothing also serving as something that amplified the effect. As well, with his lack of facial hair, Stan could now see his strong jawline perfectly, something he couldn’t complain about, but at the same time, the black haired boy wouldn’t deny that he preferred his less clean shaven appearance, probably simply because it was what he was used to. It was much more… Kyle. 

“Dude, what?” Kyle asked with a sideways smile, catching his glances. 

Stan shook his head and let out a soft laugh that only he and Kyle could hear. “Nothing. It’s just… new, seeing you in colours.” He half-answered. “Red looks nice on you.” Stan said truthfully, watching for Kyle’s response. 

Not much to Stan’s surprise, the redhead shook his head and smirked, yet, there was another gesture added to his usual mannerisms that even Stan didn’t expect. He wasn’t quite sure if it was just the light’s reflection hitting him at a certain angle or the delayed effects of the wine, but the raven haired boy could swear that he saw him… blush. 

Secretly, Stan was hoping it wasn’t a colour change caused by window panes or alcohol, but he didn’t want to read too much into it, especially considering the precarious situation they were in and the fact that that should’ve been the last thing on his mind… 

 

Before Kyle and Stan knew it, the procession began to make their way down the middle of the pews, Kyle looking on curiously as one clergy member brought with him a large golden cross and placed it at the front of the sanctuary, Stan hoping that he would get the chance to explain what it represented later, that is, if he could remember himself. 

It wasn’t until that point that Stan realised just how mindlessly he’d attended his masses, simply reciting when things needed to be recited, rising when he needed to rise, making the sign of the cross when it needed to be made… It only really hit him as he watched Kyle beside him, someone who needed to pay attention to every little detail just to look like he could fit in. As long as the redhead could pull off the appearance of being a Catholic who would attend mass even twice annually, one of the ones who would claim that their busy schedule wouldn’t allow for anything more, that would be enough. And so far, at least from Stan’s perspective, he was doing just fine. 

As the black haired boy watched Kyle pretend to pronounce the Latin words in the Penitentiary Rite, right down to feigning the singing of the Gloria and Hallelujah, he couldn’t help but be impressed. The only time Stan noticed anything off about his performance had to have come when the redhead cringed upon hearing the priest proclaim how the miracle of the cross only came to be because of the Jews who condemned Jesus to death, forever dooming themselves as they eternally placed his blood on their hands… That, and how Kyle accidently took the body of Christ out of the priest’s hand instead of receiving it. A minor error, yet something that Stan couldn’t help but gulp when he saw, hoping that not too many people around noticed the gesture. 

“So, how did I do for my first mass?” Kyle asked softly as they exited the chapel, keeping his eyes peeled for those around him. 

“Dude, you did great. You just looked like someone who hadn’t gone in a while because you were too busy with work.” He told him fairly honestly. 

“…But that’s still okay, right?” Kyle asked, a slightly worried expression crossing his face. 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, that’s fine. There’s lots of people like that, the ones who only come on Christmas Eve and Easter, so don’t worry.” He assured, flashing him a warm smile. 

Kyle let out a long sigh, “Okay, good. So now…?” 

“Well… now we have to go sit up at the head table, next to Sir Marchand.” Stan told him, Kyle resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Oh god; more of that guy.” The redhead said with a shake of his head. “See, if I could get through a mass, the epitome of Christianity, I’m starting to think I can survive a dinner with a guy who didn’t even know that Hebrew is the language of the Jews.” He said confidently, Stan unable to do anything other than smile. 

“Yeah, exactly. This’ll seem like nothing now.” He assured. “And hey, so I was right, huh? It really wasn’t that bad.” 

Kyle casted Stan a sideways smile, “I guess I wouldn’t call it ‘bad’, but I didn’t like it nearly as much as our services.” He told him honestly. 

“Well, you’ve seen both now, so you can compare them.” He said before he began to smile to himself, “And you never know; maybe one day I’ll get dragged to a banquet on your side of town and have to sit through your mass, then I can tell you what I think.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Yeah, except to fit in there I’d have to find you a yarmulke and a tallis, and you might have to grow your facial hair out a bit.” The redhead noted, running his finger quickly along his naked jawline. 

Stan couldn’t help but shiver even at the gentle touch of his finger as it moved down his face, the black haired boy shaking his head as he pretended to dismiss the gesture. 

“I think I could manage.” 

Once all the guests returned to their seats after filing out of the chapel, that was when the evening truly began. As expected, the day began as normal with some formal speeches made by Sir Marchand, followed by him bestowing honour on all the knights of the Kingdom of Verhalten as well as, and particularly, his honoured guests. As promised, Stan received a medal for his efforts made of what seemed to be pure gold, Kyle’s eyes going wide as he gawked at the sheer size and quality of it, the pendant hanging heavily around Stan’s neck on a velvety blue cord. Stan knew full well that the golden medal would’ve paid off his sword and twenty more like it if he were to sell it, but that was the last thing on his mind, and not so much because he wanted to keep it as a precious reminder of his accomplishment, but rather because selling it would leave him with no excuse left to come visit Kyle in the mornings, which was the last thing he wanted. 

All the black haired boy could think of during the ceremony, with speeches, meals, drinks, and conversations that could’ve served to distract him, was that he hoped with all his might that after this things could go back to the way they were, that Kyle would be able to breathe a sigh of relief at the end of the night, but as the event dragged on later and later, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain composed. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever told the same lie so many times in one night.” Kyle whispered as he wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead, the outside air, although warm, not nearly as stuffy as the air inside the hall. The late June sun was beginning to set in the distance, giving the sky a watercolour effect that was working to calm both Stan and Kyle who had been inquired non-stop all night about their writing arrangement ever since Sir Marchand found out about the Hebrew aspect of it. For now, the boys feigned feeling faint and asked to be excused to step out of the room for a moment for some fresh air, their excuse closer to the truth than anything else they’d said that night. 

“Well, we won’t have to keep this up for too much longer. People should be starting to go home soon.” Stan tried to assure. “And plus, if they don’t start leaving, we can just say that we started feeling sick. It’s not like they can _force_ us to stay.” 

Kyle nodded, “Yeah, that’s true.” He agreed, turning his attention away from the sunset in the distance and back to the door of the hall, letting out a long sigh. “It’s too bad neither of us looked under the weather this morning. That would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.” 

Stan laughed bitterly, “Yeah. Everything looks better in hindsight, huh?” 

“Yup.” 

With their momentary pause from reality behind them, the boys walked silently back into the grand hall, making their way right to the middle of the foyer before they were stopped in their tracts, some rather prominent figures standing in the way of their re-entry into the dining area. 

Two Arch Bishops, dressed in hats, cross-decorated robes and all, waltzed through the entranceway, the doors swinging shut behind them, leaving the foyer empty with just the four men, two of whom were the last people Stan hoped to meet that night. As if by reflex, both Stan and Kyle made a courteous bow in front of the men, the two of them smiling back at the boys once they stood at attention again. 

“Good evening, Sir Marsh.” A grey haired man spoke up, his voice weak with age yet somehow still so intimidating. The man looked even sterner than any of the ones the two of them had encountered in the merchant’s quarter before, his unceasing smile making him appear even more sinister, and Stan could tell that Kyle saw that too. In fact, the look on Kyle’s face was unlike any he’d ever seen. The redhead directed his gaze towards the ground after giving him a hard stare, his green eyes only momentarily locking with the man’s amber ones, his fists almost looking… clenched. 

Stan swallowed hard and forced a smile, “Good evening to you too, sirs.” He reciprocated, making his voice sound weaker than it was in case they needed a quick getaway, which, by the looks of it, they were heading towards. 

“Sir Stanley, are you feeling ill this fine night?” A shorter, fatter bishop asked from behind, picking up the queasiness he was trying to pull off. 

Stan nodded, “Yes, unfortunately. Me and my scribe were trying to push through the evening, but we’re running pretty low on energy now. We’ll probably be heading out soon.” He lied. 

The grey haired Arch Bishop nodded. “Oh, I see. Well, it was very good of you to stay for as long as you did, under the circumstances.” He said ambiguously. 

Stan nodded yet again, “…Yes.” He replied, not sure what else to say. “We enjoyed our time here tonight very much, but actually, we were just about to go inside and say goodbye to Sir Marchand, so if it’s alright with you gentlemen---”

“Oh yes, of course Stanley. We wouldn’t want to keep you from such things when you both aren’t in the greatest of health.” The grey haired Arch Bishop interrupted. “But in fact, it’s a good thing I caught you then when I did, because I had a question I’d been meaning to ask all night.” 

Stan gulped, “A question?” 

The grey haired man nodded, “Yes; not for you, but rather for your scribe.” He said as he turned his attention to Kyle. “I think Sir Marchand said your name was Lucas Kraft, is it not?” 

Kyle nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

The Arch Bishop raised an eyebrow his way, “Why Lucas, you must really be feeling ill, for you forgot to ask me for my name.” He said with an ironic chuckle. 

Kyle’s green eyes picked up and held onto the Arch Bishop’s as he spoke in a monotone voice. 

“What is your name, sir?” He questioned, Stan hearing the tension in his voice. 

The Arch Bishop grinned before he answered. “You can just call me Sir Haman.” He stated. When the man failed to receive a reaction aside from a nod from Kyle, he moved on in what he intended to say from the start. 

“Well then Lucas, from what I’ve heard, you are primarily trained in the wonderful Semitic language of the Old Testament, is that right?” 

Kyle nodded. “That’s correct.” 

“Wow. That really is quite a feat. I cannot imagine having to learn an entirely new alphabet.” Haman said as he crossed his arms over his chest. Stan swallowed hard, experiencing for the first time that night the thing that he was fearing would happen all along. He had a feeling that the choice of words he used were intentional, and even if they weren’t, he still had a feeling that he needed to do what he could to get out of there. And fast. 

In that moment, Stan went into a coughing fit, over emphasising the dramatic sounds as he clutched his chest and turned away, looking as though he was doing his best to conceal his sickness, but to no avail. 

“Sirs, I’m really sorry, I,” He began, his forced coughs getting in the way of the rest of his sentence. “I don’t know what happened to me tonight, but this is really embarrassing. Actually… maybe even too embarrassing to go back in and see Sir Marchand off, you know, in case something like that happens again. The last thing I want is to give whatever I caught to everyone in there.” Stan explained, turning back towards the Bishops. 

“Oh yes, we certainly understand, Sir Stanley. You do sound terribly ill.” The smaller Bishop in the back piped up, his light blue eyes looking sympathetic towards the knight. “Sir Haman, I think our question can wait for another time. These boys really do need to be getting home.” 

Haman glared at the smaller man for a moment, looking as though he was trying hard not to scoff at him. “Oh come now, Marcus, surely they can hang on merely another minute or so. Knights are supposed to be resilient warriors, or at least, that’s what I had thought.” He said sharply. 

Sir Marcus shook his head, “Sir Haman, even the strongest of knights can be knocked down with a single blow. Sickness is not something to toy with.” 

Sir Haman shook his head as a frown crossed his face, the grey haired man stepping directly in front of Sir Marcus, ignoring his request and disrespecting his position. 

“Lucas, I’ll make this brief, then.” He declared with a loud voice that filled the whole foyer. “All I had were some simple questions to ask regarding some scripture verses, questions whose answers seemed to have foolishly slipped my mind, likely due to my age.” He said with humility. “And I figured, who better to answer these questions than a man who knows the entire bible inside and out by this point in his career?” 

Kyle faked a laugh as he brought his arms behind his back and stood up straight. “I wouldn’t go as far as saying that, sir. I merely copy verses in the bible, not memorise them.” 

Sir Haman gave him a dismissive wave of his hand, “Oh I’m sure you are more qualified than you’re giving yourself credit.” He chuckled. 

It was then that Stan began to cough yet again as the situation intensified, knowing that this was his last chance to diverge the conversation, a conversation that he already knew was going in a horribly wrong direction. The effect of the coughs echoing off the walls of the small room were felt by all three men, and especially, by Sir Marcus. 

“My Lord, this man is ill. I insist that we allow them to take leave.” 

“Not yet, Marcus!” Haman’s voice boomed. Everyone went silent. “Now Lucas, all I was wondering were two simple questions, questions of names. Call it laziness, but if I can merely ask a scribe for an answer instead of having to search through the entire bible to find the correct verses, that would do me a great service.” 

Kyle’s face remained unreadable to Stan, something Stan hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

“Alright; what are your questions?” He asked boldly. 

Haman let out a smile, a smile that appeared to almost turn into a sneer. “Well, my first one was regarding the name of the Roman governor who reluctantly allowed for Jesus to be crucified on the cross, the man knowing that Christ was an innocent man all along but who was practically being forced into the act.” He said straightforwardly. “It’s strange how a name so important can just slip my mind like that…” 

Kyle let out a fake laugh, “Ha, and what’s even stranger is that I can’t seem to recall that name either.” 

Haman’s face took on a dramatic frown. “Oh my, this really is quite a predicament, isn’t it? Ah, no matter. Hopefully I’ll be able to skim through and try to find it before tomorrow’s mass.” He reasoned, stroking his bare chin. “Well, I guess I’ll just go onto my second question then. Lucas, can you tell me what the name of Lot’s wife was by chance? You know, from the story in Genesis where she turned around to glance back at Sodom and became a pillar of salt?” 

Kyle bit his lower lip as he appeared to be thinking for a minute, the redhead swallowing before he answered. “From what I remember, she has no name in the bible.” 

Haman began to nod, “Oh right, right. Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?” He said pensively. “Oh! Now I seem to be able to recall the name of the man I was referring to earlier. Pontius Pilate; that was the one. Does that name ring a bell to you?” He asked, his tone becoming deeper.

Kyle’s eyes matched up with his as he nodded. “Yes, sir. Of course.” He said politely. 

There was a long pause as Haman kept his eyes locked with Kyle, Stan holding his breath. 

“Are you sure, Lucas?” 

“…Yes, sir.” 

Haman chuckled to himself, “Funny; I’m not so sure I would be if I were you, considering you’ve never read a word from the New Testament in your life before, have you?” 

In that moment, time seemed to stop. 

“You see, right away your hair and prominent nose stood out to me, but I allowed those to slide, because, well, anyone can have bad genes. But then as I watched you try to mouth the prayers today during the mass, it started to become clearer and clearer.” He said with daggers for eyes. “Yet, to fully confirm my suspicions, I had one more test in mind, a test any Christian who attended even one Good Friday service in all their life would’ve known the answer to, yet, you failed at this as well. Ha, but, then again, why would kikes like you want to attend a solemn mass that mourns the loss of Christ? You’re probably all too busy celebrating his death.” 

…  
The redhead locked his jaw as he stared hard at Haman, his fists balling up tightly by his sides. Stan held his breath as the world seemed to freeze, the raven haired boy unable to think clearly in any way, his thought process completely overrun with panic. 

After what seemed like the longest few seconds that had ever passed, Kyle reacted. The redhead said no words- not even one syllable- because what could really be said at that point? He was exposed, and there was nothing he could do to resolve the damage that was done. It was clear that Haman had an agenda from the beginning, and even if Kyle had answered that question correctly, Stan was sure that he would’ve found another way to reveal his true identity. 

Yet, instead of using words, Kyle used something that made much more of an impact: his spit. 

“Agh! How dare you!” Haman hollered, his voice booming throughout the foyer. Sir Marcus grabbed Haman’s arm from behind him and pulled him away from Kyle, Stan simultaneously stepping in front of the redhead. 

“Get your hands off me! Didn’t you see what he just did? Guards! Guards, seize him!” His voice rang out, hoping to catch the attention of people on either side of the closed off room. And attention was given indeed. 

Two guards from the exterior who were guarding the entrance to the hall came running in at lightning speed. Before Stan knew it, Kyle had been grabbed by the men, men who were unsure of exactly why they were being instructed to do so, but men who were smart enough to know to obey any order given by an Arch Bishop, particularly one like Haman. 

It was in the moment right before Haman was about to open his mouth and give his explanation, a familiar voice rang out as the back door opened as if right on cue. 

“What’s all this about?” The brunette Kyle knew so well questioned. 

Haman glared at Cartman, gritting his teeth. “This Jew over there just spat in my face!” He said hotly. “Not only is he unauthorised to be in these parts, but he showed me the ultimate sign of disrespect. Ha! Oh the things the courts will do to him…” 

Cartman’s view turned from Haman to Kyle, who was currently held between two armed men. 

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asked straightforwardly. 

“I didn’t intend on coming here. I was invited here personally by Sir Marchand to be Stan’s guest.” He said honestly. 

Cartman’s attention was directed from Kyle over to Stan. “Is this true? Did Sir Marchand specifically invite this Jew to the banquet?” 

Stan nodded firmly. “Yes. He’s telling the truth. I was right there when it happened.” 

“Oh right! You expect me to believe that he would knowingly invite a Jew here tonight? And allow him to sit at the head table at that? I don’t believe that for a second!” Haman bellowed. 

Sir Marcus stepped up from behind Haman and cleared his throat, “Sir Haman, Sir Marchand must have known he was inviting a Jewish person, seeing as he kept introducing this man as a Hebrew script. There is no way he would have assumed that a Christian would have knowledge such as that.” He reasoned. “I think Stanley and the Jew are telling the truth.” 

Haman shook his head, “Am I really hearing this correctly? Are you all mad? This man crossed a boundary that was never meant to be stepped over and you’re actually defending him?” 

Sir Marcus’ eyes narrowed at Haman. “My Lord, are you saying that Sir Marchand is a man of bad judgement?” 

Haman’s eyes widened. “What? I… No! No, I am not saying that at all.” 

Cartman crossed his arms over his chest and stepped towards Kyle. “Release him.” 

Upon Eric’s words, the guards did so. 

“What?! This is unacceptable! You are to obey _my_ orders! I am superior to this lowly Bishop.” 

Sir Marcus shook his head, “But are you above both Sir Cartman and I?” He asked. “Guards, at ease. Return to your post and protect this building. We’ll let you know if there’s any real danger.” 

Haman let out a slow breath as he watched the guards exit, leaving the five of them alone in the room, Cartman and Stan standing on either side of Kyle whilst they awaited Haman’s next actions. 

“I… I don’t even know what to make of this. You’re really going to ignore the fact that he did all this? I don’t know what’s gotten into all of you, but I know for a fact that when I take this to court that the council will surely be on my side.” 

Stan glanced over at Cartman who quickly bit his lip, appearing to be thinking up something fast. 

“Sir Haman, I think taking this to court is unnecessary.” Cartman expressed. 

Haman crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh? And why is that?” 

Cartman swallowed before he spoke, “Because for one, Sir Marchand would get into trouble for personally inviting a non-Christian into this section of town, and I don’t think any of us want to be responsible for that.” 

Haman let out a sigh, “And what would your second point happen to be?” 

“My second point,” Cartman began. “Is that I think we can resolve the issue right here, right now instead of going through a process that could take a very long time.” 

Haman’s eyebrow picked up, “Go on.” 

Cartman cleared his throat, “Well, we could enact our own form of punishment without going through all the technical processes, a punishment that would have the same effects as one that a court would produce.” 

Cartman’s words seemed to catch Kyle by surprise, judging by the crazed look in his eyes, a look that didn’t go unnoticed by Haman. 

Haman smiled. “Hmm… That is a rather interesting notion. And what kind of punishment did you have in mind?” 

Cartman paused for a few moments, seeming to be collecting his thoughts. “…What about instead of sentencing him to a hanging or to the stocks, we simply take away his right to practice his trade? And in doing so, he will slowly but surely starve as a result of his lack of income.” 

Haman nodded to himself, appearing to be running over the idea in his head. “…Yes, yes; that’s really quite brilliant.” The Arch Bishop acknowledged. “Jew, what is your trade?” 

Stan watched as Kyle’s Adam’s apple slid down his throat, “I’m a merchant, sir. A money-lender.” He said truthfully. 

“Alright then. I will be sure to station one of these guards permanently in the merchant’s quarter to ensure that this arrangement is adhered to.” He stated firmly. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.” 

Kyle nodded. With that, Cartman and Stan escorted him away, Stan shutting the door tightly behind them as they left. 

Silently they walked through the castle gardens and crossed over the bridge until they came to a place far enough away where they could ensure that they would not be seen by any authority figures, and once they were in a safe place, Kyle did something Stan hoped he would never have to see him do again. 

Kyle collapsed into Cartman’s arms and bawled, burying his face in Eric’s robe. 

 

It was safe to say that Cartman saved Kyle’s life that night. Although he would lose his trade, he knew that with his family by his side, he would never go hungry like Haman had imagined, and Cartman knew that. Haman forgot that in humans there was humanity. The thought probably never occurred to him just how closely knit the Jewish community was, but in not knowing, that greatly advantaged Kyle. 

Yes, life would be different now, although just how different was yet to be determined. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Kyle was still alive, which was more than anything Stan could’ve asked for.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocab
> 
> 'sitting shiva'- _'Sitting shiva' is a term used to describe the action of Jewish mourners participating in the traditional rituals of observing a shiva. During the period of shiva, mourners sometimes sit on low stools or boxes while they receive condolence calls. This is where the phrase “sitting shiva” comes from, and it is a practice that symbolizes the mourner being “brought low” following the loss of a loved one. For seven days, the family members of the deceased gather in one location – typically their own home or the home of the deceased – and mourns the loss in a variety of ways_

Stan didn’t bother shutting his eyes as he laid his head down against his pillow that night; there was simply way too much on his mind to even attempt sleeping. The black haired boy could still hear his heart beat in his ears as he breathed out slowly, trying to come grasp with everything that had taken place that evening, but try as he might, his brain wouldn’t quiet down even for a second. 

What would be the consequences of his leaving the banquet without saying goodbye to his superiors? Would his breaking of etiquette translate to some kind of demotion? Would Haman publicise the arrangement Cartman, Marcus, him and Kyle had made? Would he even keep his word in not taking Kyle to court? And if not, what would be the consequences Sir Marchand would face for inviting a Jewish person into the wrong part of town? And even more likely, what would Stan’s consequences be for not bothering to disclose to him that his teacher was, in fact, a Jew, something Sir Marchand could easily claim he was simply unaware of? 

Stan shook his head as he ran over the possibilities, not able to come to a conclusion on any of them, only knowing for certain that that one banquet had caused a lot more issues than he had anticipated…

_Clunk, clunk, clunk_

“Huh?” Stan said to himself, hearing a strange rapping sound on his window. The raven haired boy looked downwards first to his dog, only to find the canine fast asleep at the foot of his bed, ruling out him as a possibility. He decided to get up and investigate, dragging his feet over to the small window. The dark haired boy peered outside, having no idea what to expect, but being too tired to even bother to guess. 

To his surprise, Stan saw a face outside of his home that he had just seen a few hours ago. He signaled for the man to wait as he departed from the window to go and meet him outside, making his way as quietly as he could through his home and into his front yard. 

When Stan stepped outside, he felt the cold air envelope him, forgetting that he had stripped off mostly all of his clothing upon re-entering his home, only wearing a strange cloth-like pair of pants.  
Cartman raised a brown eyebrow as he examined his look, shaking his head but not bothering to address it further than that. 

“Follow me.” He instructed, gesturing at the raven haired boy to come forward with the tilt of his head. 

“Where are we going?” Stan asked as he rubbed his eyes, mindlessly obeying the Bishop as they made their way down the deserted street, the black haired boy struggling to keep up with his surprisingly rapid pace. 

“You’ll see when we get there.” Stan didn’t have the energy to press further after everything that had just gone on that night, so he simply had to accept his vague answer, hoping it would make sense in the end. 

The two men wandered down a familiar trail towards the Jewish quarter, Stan feeling strangely uncomfortable heading down a path he knew so well at this point. The moon was hardly visible in the night sky, and to top it off, there was a thick fog hung over the road in front of them, making the whole experience even harder to swallow, Stan feeling a strange urge to vomit for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. 

“Stop breathing so hard.” Eric’s voice called out from a close distance in front of him, those being the first words he’d spoken since they left Stan’s house. Stan let out a sigh, not in the mood to argue.  
“Dude, can you just tell me where we’re going? We’ve been walking for miles now.” He asked, exhausted. 

“We’re almost there. Just keep your voice down.” Cartman shushed, still not bothering to turn around to tell the knight directly. If Cartman hadn’t just saved Kyle’s life that night, Stan would’ve probably inquired further, but after seeing the Bishop’s act of bravery, he realised that Kyle was right to trust him all along, Eric impressing both of them probably in ways Kyle could have never even imagined. 

A couple more miles later, Eric finally began to slow down, glancing from side to side as he directed Stan off the main road and onto a more curved, unused pathway boarding the ghetto walls. Eventually, the brunette came to a halt as he froze in front of a large birch tree, looking at it up and down carefully as though he were scanning it for ancient runes. 

“We’re here.” He said, looking down at the ground below the tree. 

“…And where’s ‘here’ exactly?” Stan asked, just wanting to know the reason he was dragged halfway across the kingdom. Without first answering his question, Cartman knelt down, proceeding to grab Stan’s shoulders and yank him down with him, all of this happening within seconds. 

“Hey! What the hell, Cartman?” Stan let out. 

The brown haired boy took Stan by the arm and pulled him close, “Stan! I told you to shut up. You think I’d just bring you all the way out here for nothing? You’ll see why in like ten seconds, alright?” He said harshly, locking his light eyes onto Stan’s. The black haired boy nodded, not used to having Cartman use such a serious voice with him. And anyways, he was glad to have finally gotten some sort of answer from him, as vague and uninformative as it was.

After a few more quick glances, the brunette directed his attention to a thick patch of dead grass and twigs right near the trunk of the tree and pushed it aside. Cartman pushed Stan back and continued to uncover more of the area, brushing aside more and more dead shrubbery until a bare area was fully cleared. The brunette then reached out in front of him and yanked up a thick piece of earth covered in dead grass, something that was meant to look natural but that was obviously the product of human innovation. The brown haired boy turned abruptly back to Stan once the piece of earth was raised, revealing a dark trail to nothingness that laid hidden underneath. 

“I need you to jump down this hole.” He instructed, eyes locked. 

“ _What_?” Stan said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. 

Cartman continued to stare at him, “Stan, you have to believe me when I say that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone who means anything to Kyle.” He stated.  
Stan gulped, looking down at the shadowy opening that lay in front of him, unable to see anything besides darkness below. 

“…Cartman, I…” 

“Listen,” Eric interrupted, holding onto his shoulders. “I saved both of your asses tonight, so the least you can do is go along with me when I ask you to slide down a little hole. I swear to god nothing’s going to happen to you, okay? But you need to do this fast. It’ll all make sense in a few seconds. Just trust me.”

With that, Stan took a deep breath and exhaled, his mind overwhelmed yet again, the Bishop somehow managing to make even this outrageous request seem doable. 

“…Jesus; I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…fine; I’ll trust you.” 

With that, Cartman nodded. Stan manoeuvered himself so that his legs were dangling over the entrance, and with one last deep breath in, the black haired boy descended, closing his eyes tight as he dropped down. 

To his great surprise, he hit solid ground within seconds, the knees only slightly buckling as he made contact with the earth below. He gazed up, seeing a dim shadow of Cartman’s large frame above him, the brown haired boy gesturing with a wave of his hand for Stan to move to the side. The black haired boy complied, plastering himself against the dirt walls of the opening, awaiting his next instructions. 

Cartman was quick to drop down, the larger boy hitting the ground with a _thud_. Immediately once he made contact with the earth, Stan watched as he hoisted the large, flat piece of earth and dead grass back up over his head until he managed to position it exactly where he wanted it, which was right back over the entrance of the hole. Now, there was only complete darkness. 

“Okay, so now are you gonna explain to me what we’re doing down here?” Stan asked in a huff, breaking the complete silence that had set in around them, the only sounds that could be heard at all being their heavy breathing. 

“Yeah,” He said, taking in a deep breath. “I think it's safe to talk now.” 

But before Eric bothered explaining anything, he withdrew from Stan’s side once more in search of something that was hidden within the complete darkness, leaving Stan with no option other than to wait for him to return, arms crossed as he leaned against the cold, dry wall. 

The sound of rock hitting rock filled the empty space, the black haired boy having a vague idea of what was going on, his suspicions being confirmed a few seconds later once Eric shed light on their situation, literally. 

With a torch lit, Stan watched as Cartman slid two pieces of flint back into his pocket, the brunette raising up the light source and revealing where they actually were. To Stan’s surprise, they weren’t in a hole at all, but in fact inside the entrance to a tunnel, a tunnel that looked as though it went on for quite some distance, the whole scene beginning to make sense little by little. 

“Where does it go?” The raven haired boy asked. 

“Right into the ghetto.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow, “Does Kyle know about this?” 

Cartman let out a laugh, “Marsh, every Jew knows about this tunnel. Who do you think gave me permission to bring you down here?” 

Stan shook his head, “Wait, so if every Jew knows about it, how come…” 

“How come I know about it too?” He finished for him. “It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you while we’re walking.” He said, stepping in front of Stan and gesturing to him to, yet again, follow behind. Stan let out another sigh, but complied, the brunette having yet to not come through on his word. 

With the torch held as high as the low-lying ceiling would allow for, Cartman began to lead Stan down the deserted underground corridor, both men having to pay very close attention to their surroundings as they pressed onward, careful not to step in a puddle, scrape against the earthy wall, or bump their heads from above. 

“I don’t think even two people can fit side by side down here.” Stan said, eyes fixated on the ground as he marched onward. 

Cartman nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I don’t think it’s really meant for that.” 

“What’s it meant for, then?” Stan asked, copying Eric’s footsteps as he trailed closely behind. 

Eric shrugged, “Couldn’t tell you, but if I had to guess, I’d think it was probably made for emergencies.” 

Stan nodded solemnly, “Yeah… That’d make sense.” He said, knowing full well that that was a very real concern. “But wait, back to what you were saying before, how’d you even find out about the tunnel in the first place if it’s something only the Jews know about?” 

“You mean only the Jews, plus me and Kenny, and now you, I guess.” He corrected, jumping over a puddle, Stan following suit.

The raven haired boy cocked an eyebrow, “What? Kenny knows too?” 

Cartman nodded, “Yeah; Kenny was the one who showed me, actually.” He said, finally commencing his story. “He found out about it a really long time ago, back when we were little kids. I remember him telling me that he saw a kid about our age crawl out of a hole in the ground, so out of curiosity, he wanted to figure out what was going on.” Cartman continued, his pace slowing as he let out a long yawn, the fatigue starting to hit both of them pretty hard. 

“Kenny told me that he went back the next day to same spot he saw the kid crawl out of, and that was when he pretty much fell into the tunnel, which is pretty easy to do since the covering is just basically a dried up piece of dirt. So then, once he was inside, he followed it all the way to the end, which brought him straight into the middle of the ghetto, right near Kyle’s house.” 

Stan nodded as he came to a realisation, “Huh… I guess that explains why he knew right where Kyle lived.” 

“Yup.” Cartman said, confirming the raven haired boy’s suspicions. “And so when he came back through the tunnel and eventually made his way out, he felt like he had to tell somebody, so he came and told me, and the rest is pretty much history.” 

Stan couldn’t help but shake his head at the hypocrisy, “Dude, didn’t you know you weren’t allowed inside the ghetto?”

Cartman let out a scoff, “Yeah, of course we knew, but we were kids, Stan. If anything, not being allowed in made it more fun for us.” He admitted, the two of them having to duck lower as they made their way deeper and deeper down the tunnel. “We didn’t do anything _that_ bad; just things like turning over wheelbarrows, setting chickens loose from their pens, knocking on people’s doors and then leaving…You know, just stupid kid crap.” 

“…But you stopped going in eventually, right?” Stan had to ask. 

Cartman rolled his eyes, “Yeah, obviously. Once we got older and found out it was wrong, we stopped coming on the regular, but that wasn’t before we already became good friends with Kyle.”  
“So then when you guys got older…” Stan started. 

Cartman nodded, “Yeah, that was when Kenny started doing business with Kyle, having to look at him as Kyle the money-lender instead of just Kyle the red haired kid we used to play with.” 

“...Huh.” Stan said, rubbing his chin. This was all information that Kenny had concealed from him earlier, probably having to do with the secretive nature of the tunnel and the possible issues that could’ve arisen with Stan, a knight they barely knew at the time, knowing that two Christians frequented the ghetto for years. 

“You guys have a pretty long history with Kyle then, huh?” 

Cartman laughed to himself, “You could say that.” 

Stan hesitated before asking his next question, “So… how did Kyle first react when he found out you became a Bishop?” 

Cartman went quiet for a few seconds, the sounds of their footsteps suddenly becoming much more prominent as they echoed through the narrow corridor. 

“He… he actually didn’t even recognise me at first.” He said quietly. “The first time he saw me after years was when I went with Kenny to get his loan after a morning mass, and I was all dressed in my robe and shit, with the giant cross and everything. When Kyle saw me, he kind of… went silent.” He admitted, pausing for a bit after his latest statement. “It took him a while to trust me again.”  
Stan nodded, feeling the weight those words carried as they left Cartman’s tongue. At that point, their pace had slowed immensely, and if they hadn’t just came to the end of the tunnel, Stan would’ve at least attempted to comfort him, but for now, they had to focus on the task at hand. 

Cartman waved the torch around until he positioned it next to what seemed to be holes that were carved into the wall, holes that looked like they acted as a replacement for a ladder and its steps.  
“I’ll go up first and take the cover off, so when you see light coming through the top, you can start climbing. Got it?” Eric said, his voice trying to be commanding, Stan not able to help but notice that it had lost a little of its usual vigour. 

“Got it.” The black haired boy repeated. With that, Eric began his ascension, scaling the walls like a pro despite his large size. Stan waited patiently until he saw a dim light appear overhead, at which point, he followed Eric’s directions and began to clamber his way up as well, placing his hands and feet into the holes that were made by the many people who had climbed the wall before him. Once he reached the top, he saw a large hand appear before him, which he grabbed onto, Eric providing the last hoist he needed to pull himself out from underground and back to ground level. 

Once both of the boys were out, they took a second to sit down and rest, catching their breaths before they placed the cover back over the hole, finalising the operation. 

“So, does it look familiar?” Cartman asked, standing up and cracking his back after it having been bent for so long in the tunnel. 

Stan rubbed his eyes and began to look around, everything slowly starting to come back to him. Even though he had only been in the ghetto once before, he still managed to recall his surroundings quite well, mostly because all he had were Kenny’s instructions to go off of and the last thing he wanted at that point was to get lost. Stan saw the same narrow streets, the same fences, and the same houses, noticing Kyle’s greyish one immediately, it being nearly right next to the tunnel entrance like Cartman had said it would be. 

“Yeah; it’s just like I remember it.” He said quietly, gazing around at the completely empty streets. 

“Well in that case, do you remember the guy who lives in that house?” Cartman asked, pointing to Kyle’s. When the black haired boy spun around to answer Cartman, he came face to face with no other than the redhead who nearly got sent to court just that night.

“Kyle!” Stan said with a smile as he went running up to the money-lender and took him into his arms, hugging him like it was the first time he’d seen the guy in years. 

“Hey Stan.” Kyle chuckled, pulling back from their embrace after they held it for a few seconds longer. Once Stan took a step back, he saw that he was back to wearing his tunic, the raven haired boy feeling hot tears well up in his eyes as he observed Kyle in the original attire he had always known him in.

“You know, the red was nice on you, but I think this suits you better than anything else.” Stan said with a laugh, feeling a warm tear trickle down his face. 

“Yeah… I don’t think I’ll be changing out of this anytime soon.” He said quietly as he extended his thumb to Stan’s face and wiped the stray tear away, Stan’s eyes picking up off the ground and making their way back to the redhead’s. 

“Um… Okay, well, I delivered you your knight, so I guess my work here is done.” The brunette added, standing with his hands behind his back as he waited off to the side. Kyle spun back around and gave Eric a warm smile, approaching him before he took his leave.

“Thanks, Cartman; this really means a lot. This and…well, everything you did tonight.” Kyle said graciously, wrapping his arms around the Bishop and squeezing him tight. When the two pulled away, Stan could swear he saw Eric’s eyes go a little watery, but perhaps it was merely due to a speck of dust that got in his eyes. He doubted it, though. 

With that, the Bishop looked around one last time before he took off the manhole cover and descended back down into the tunnel, heading back into a world that didn’t allow for their friendship to exist- a world where the boundaries clearly didn’t work as well as they were intended to. 

Kyle took in a deep breath as he watched the cover get placed back over the hole before turning his eyes back to Stan, his face looking more worn out than ever. 

“I’ll show you the new place where we’re going to have our lessons.” He said as he gestured for the black haired boy to follow with the wave of his hand. Unlike their other journeys that night, this one was a fairly quick one, one that simply led the two boys into Kyle’s backyard. The redhead held the fence door open for Stan as he walked through, the knight quickly noticing that Kyle’s table and stools were already set up right in the centre of the tiny backyard, giving it almost a classroom appeal. 

Stan followed Kyle over to the table as he took a seat on one of the stools, letting out a long sigh before he spoke again. 

“So this is gonna be our new spot?” The black haired boy whispered. Kyle nodded. 

“Yup. It’s pretty much the only place we can work now, considering…” He trailed on without needing to finish the sentence, Stan watching as his Adam’s apple ran slowly down his throat. 

“…And it’s okay that I’m here?” The raven haired boy asked, leaning his elbow on the table as he positioned himself closer to Kyle. 

Kyle couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “I don’t think you need me to answer that for you.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “But remember what I said before? If I let you in with my permission, it’s a totally different story. And so in a way, yes, this is me allowing you to be here, but at the same time, I can’t speak for everyone in the ghetto, meaning that this’ll still have to be discreet.” He explained. 

“Gotcha.” Stan whispered before letting out a yawn, craning his neck upwards towards the bright stars that shone overhead. “And I’m guessing that means that we’ll have to start this early from now on too, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” Kyle sighed. “That’s more for your end’s sake, though. Everyone around here already knows about the tunnel, but I couldn’t risk anyone from your side of town finding out about it, for obvious reasons…”

Stan nodded slowly, grasping the severity. 

“...You know, Kyle, I… I’m glad you could trust me enough to tell me. I know it probably wasn’t an easy thing to do.” 

Kyle picked up his eyes, “Yeah, well, I still need you to pay my money back, and I figured you weren’t going to sell your medal, were you?” 

Stan shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

“Exactly.” Kyle said with a nod, letting out a slow breath. “See, the last thing I want is for Haman to win. I’m sure he thinks that since he took away my right to practice my trade that I’ll just waste away because I won’t be able to find a new way to make money, and that I’ll just … rot, like a fucking piece of raw meat.” He said as he balled up his fists. “But I’m not going to let that happen. I can’t let him win. And if it takes me inviting a Christian into the ghetto to make sure that my life can go on like it always has, then that’s the way it has to be.” He declared, eyes sharp as they looked at Stan. 

Only a few seconds later, the tone in Kyle’s eyes changed as he shook his head, the redhead proceeding to reach out and place a gentle hand over Stan’s. “But to be honest, I wasn’t too worried about trusting you with any of this because, well, you’ve never really given me a reason not to, you know… especially after how you tried to save my life last night.” 

Stan laughed bitterly to himself, “But dude, I didn’t save you. I _couldn’t_. Nothing I did worked. If it weren’t for Cartman… I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened…” 

Kyle gripped his hand around Stan’s tighter, “Stan, you did what you could. You tried, and that’s what matters. I know you’re not a Bishop like Cartman, so it’d be stupid for me to expect you to have that same kind of leverage.” He said with stern eyes. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this. You don’t deserve that.” 

Stan allowed the words sink in, letting out a sigh as he tried to come to terms with Kyle’s statement, forever wondering how he always seemed to deal things so much better than he could. 

“I don’t know how you do it.” 

“Do what?” Kyle asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Stan knit his eyebrows together, “You know, how you can move on so fast from this, and just… accept things so easily.” He said with a shake of his head. “That’s something I really wish I could do too.” 

Kyle let out a laugh, “Dude, just because I try to move on from something quickly doesn’t mean any part of it comes easily to me. It’s just something I _have_ to do so I can at least _try_ to live a normal life. Why else do you think I’d send Cartman to come get you just a couple hours after I almost got arrested?” 

Stan chuckled, “Are we seriously having a lesson today?” 

Kyle nodded as he flashed him a closed mouth smile. “Yeah, dude; we are. No one died; there’s no need to sit _shiva_ here.” Kyle said, the redhead’s reference going over Stan’s head as the dark haired boy cocked a confused eyebrow. “Basically all I mean is that the only way for this not to affect us is for us to just keep living and not dwell on something that’s too late to change. I’m gonna keep teaching you Hebrew, and… I guess I’ll just end up teaching kids how to write full time now, which is probably something the village needed me to do a while ago anyway…” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah; I’m sure you becoming a full time teacher won’t be something they’d say no to.” 

Kyle laughed, “Yeah; I really don’t think they would.” 

Stan brought his attention back to Kyle’s eyes and gulped, wondering how to word the next thing he wanted to say. “…So, are you gonna tell them about what happened? Won’t they wonder why you’re not a money lender anymore?” 

Kyle paused, bringing his attention to the writing table. “Well, I’m probably going to tell my family at some point. Actually, I’ll have to do that sooner than later because I think lying about ‘Yankel’ needing writing lessons early every morning might get tiring pretty quick.” The redhead admitted. “But as for everybody else? I guess… I’ll just have to make up some other excuse. I don’t think they’re ready for the truth.” 

Stan laughed bitterly to himself, “…Yeah; I don’t think they’d see me in that good a light if they knew that you got dragged into the Christian part of town and almost got sent to jail because of me.”  
Kyle shook his head. “Yeah… probably not.” He said honestly. “But then again, they don’t know you like I do. I’m sure if they knew the whole story, they’d come to see that you’re a pretty amazing guy, even if you are a knight.” Kyle said with a playful grin.

Stan couldn’t help but smile in return, feeling his face grow hot for reasons he couldn’t explain as he locked eyes with Kyle, glad the dark of the morning was there to hide his colour. 

“Don’t we have some scrolls to write or something?” Stan asked as he cleared his throat, trying to change the subject. 

Kyle chuckled, “Wow, eager today, huh?” He grinned. “But yeah, good point. I dragged you all the way out here for a reason. Alright, so where did we leave off?” 

 

When the two of them finished, both of the boys completely exhausted before the day even began due to everything that had gone on in the past 24 hours, Kyle set down his quill and filled Stan’s burlap sack with all his writing materials, the redhead proceeding to hand it to him as he led him out of his backyard so he could take his leave. 

“Oh, wait! Let me show you something quick before you climb back down.” Kyle said as he tugged Stan by the arm and brought him to the front of his home. Both of the boys stood in front of his doorframe as the redhead pointed to the mezuzah, something Stan remembered very clearly from his first venture to Kyle’s house. 

“This is what you’ve been learning all this writing for. So you can write the scrolls that’ll go inside these.” He told him, delicately touching the piece of decorated wood. “They’re pretty much a religious symbol that’s supposed to remind us about our covenant with God, and they kind of act as a sign of protection over your house, that is, if you believe in that stuff.” He explained, Stan admiring Kyle’s teaching tone of voice, trying hard to repress a smile. 

“And you’re supposed to kiss it, right?” Stan asked, recalling the gesture. Kyle nodded. 

“Yeah. You kiss your fingers and then bring them up to it, like this:” He demonstrated, exemplifying what he just described. Stan watched as the redhead brought his hand back down, raising his eyebrow as he motioned with a tilt of his head that it was his turn to try. Stan nodded, bringing his fingers first to his lips, but then, instead of bringing them up to the decorative piece of wood on the doorframe, he brought them forward, and gently placed them on Kyle’s. 

In that moment, everything seemed to get quieter, or at least, that was how it seemed to Stan. He completely zoned out the sounds of crickets and early morning rooster crows that filled the warm air. The black haired boy stepped forward, filling the small gap between him and Kyle, his fingers still held over Kyle’s trembling lips. 

The next series of events happened in an instant. Stan’s fingers came off of Kyle’s mouth and were replaced with his lips instead, the black haired boy then reaching his hands behind Kyle’s back and pulling him close, the kiss sending a jolt through the redhead’s body as he froze in place. 

When Stan opened his eyes, he saw that Kyle’s look of surprise remained, but yet, only a few moments later, the redhead seemed to have fully digested what just happened, and instead of pulling away, Kyle leaned in closer and brought his lips back to Stan’s, closing his eyes tight. The black haired boy was completely taken by the moment, ignoring everything that his common sense was telling him not to do and… doing the exact opposite. He knew that he was in the Jewish quarter, doing lessons that would’ve been prohibited to do by both of their societies standards, kissing someone who had captivated him since the moment he met him, that someone being a guy at that… 

It was like nothing and everything made sense all at once. All Stan could think of was the sensation of Kyle’s hands that were wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and how soft Kyle’s lips were against his own, and just how… right it all felt, even though he knew so many would consider it so wrong.

Yet eventually, the moment had to end as they both came back to reality, the sun rising overhead bringing them back down to earth.

Kyle and Stan looked at each other with wild eyes, pupils dilated, chests heaving against each other as they let out deep sighs, neither of them knowing what their next move should be, the task of simply making a decision seeming momentous seeing as Stan could barely focus on anything other than reminding himself to breath. 

“I…I should go now, shouldn’t I?” The raven haired boy asked breathily, his face still only inches away from Kyle’s. The redhead pulled his eyes away from Stan for a moment as he observed the sun that was slowly rising in the sky, almost mocking them with its radiance. 

“…Yeah; I guess you have to.” He gulped, both of them still holding their hands around each other, neither seeming to want to budge. 

Yet… they both knew they had to, and so eventually, they did. People in the ghetto started to emerge from their homes and flood onto the streets as they rose, just as the sun did, and Stan, wearing only his sleeping trousers, stood out yet again. 

As Stan descended back down into the tunnel, making sure that he was being as discreet about it as possible, he couldn’t help but notice that Kyle was watching him all the while. The redhead failed to take his eyes off of him until he had fully submerged himself back underground, the two of them sharing one last coy smile with each other before the entrance was sealed. It was only then when the manhole cover was placed fully on top of the opening that Stan could fully catch his breath… 

Stan couldn’t help but smile to himself as he made his way down, knowing that because of his act of stupidity that put him in debt, he had an excuse to see Kyle again the very next day, never having been so thankful for his drunken mistakes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocab:
> 
> Haman- Haman is the main antagonist in the Book of Esther, who instigates a plot to kill all of the Jews of ancient Persia. Haman attempts to convince Ahasuerus to order the killing of Mordecai and all the Jews of the lands he ruled (Wikipedia). Essentially, he's the world's first anti-Semite.

A smile. That was something that couldn’t have been wiped off Stan Marsh’s face for a thousand shillings. Sure, there were moments during his day where he was forced to conceal his smile, such as when he was beckoned by a head knight and given a firm talking to about his abrupt departure and how unfit that was for a banquet, especially with him being a guest of honour. And there was also the fact that he did happen to see Haman walking around the castle quarters, the Bishop glaring at him with threatening eyes as he spoke to him about Kyle’s newest restrictions, the man of course hoping to get a terrified reaction from the black haired boy, which Stan did surely provide. Yes, Stan did have reasons for his mood to be dampened that day, but somehow, nothing that occurred seem to allow that to happen because, frankly, a disciplinary warning from people in high positions seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of things. Stan could go about his day peacefully, knowing full well that Kyle was alive and would do just fine, and, well, for another reason too.

The kiss that he shared with Kyle was unlike any other that he had experienced before. No, it was not just the fact that he was sober for it that set it apart, nor the technique, nor the fact that it was his first time kissing another male, but rather, it was undeniably the emotional connection that he felt. Right from the beginning Stan knew that what he felt for Kyle was different from what he felt with anyone else he had met before, and that moment they shared together only further confirmed it. No, he didn’t plan on anything like that happening that day, or any other day in the near future for that matter, but when the opportunity came, he knew he couldn’t pass it up. Well, that, and the fact that he seemed to have a problem with acting on impulse around the redhead… 

As the day ended and the early morning dawned, Stan prepared to take leave for his lesson, a prospect that he couldn’t deny brought him a surge of nervous energy. The black haired boy slipped on his tunic and did his best to fix his dark hair, hair that had recently grown a little longer than he cared for, and soon headed for the door, taking a deep breath as he set foot outside. 

The raven haired boy lifted up his head and gazed at the large moon that shone above, its natural radiance bringing a peaceful glow to the neighbourhood that just couldn’t be experienced in the daylight hours. He wasn’t quite sure what this morning would bring, but one thing he knew for certain was that what happened yesterday would be something that’d be hard to ignore. 

As the black haired boy came to a curve in the road, he couldn’t help but become startled upon hearing an unexpected noise as he rounded the bend, a figure approaching him at a rapid pace.  
Stan narrowed his eyes, trying to squint through the darkness to make out exactly who was coming near, and but soon enough, it became clear.

“Cartman?” Stan called through the dark in a state of déjà vu, the large man approaching quickly. Before the brunette could answer, he bent over and clutched his knees as he caught his breath, exhausted from the jog. 

“Stan; I need your help.” He said, still trying to regain his normal breathing pattern. Stan’s eyes went wide. 

“Dude, what happened?” 

Cartman gulped. “It’s Kenny. He’s… not doing well. We need to get him to a doctor, now.” 

“Holy shit…” The black haired boy let out. “But Cartman, where are we gonna find a doctor at 4 in the morning?” 

Cartman pointed into the distance, “Right where you’re heading. Ike’s training to be one, remember? He’s not certified yet or anything, but I’m sure he can pull some strings for us in terms of getting us some medicine.” He said hopefully. “And plus, what other choice do we have?” 

Stan nodded, knowing full well that that question was a rhetorical one. 

“How far away does Kenny live?” Stan asked. 

“Not too far. If we run, we can get there in about 10 minutes.” He said, taking a pause as he gulped. “I… just hope we can get him help in time.”

 

It was a silent run at a steady pace, Stan being surprised by Cartman’s athletic abilities yet again as they raced past Stan’s neighbourhood and into the peasant village. Of all the places in the kingdom, besides the Jewish ghetto, the peasant village was probably the one he frequented the least, mostly because there really wasn’t much to see there besides dwellings, dwellings that Stan couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around as he passed, knowing that about four of those houses made up one of his. There were a surprising amount of people on the streets already, but none of them took a second glance at the two of them as they passed, seeing as both of them were dressed in tunics, Stan unsure of Cartman’s reason for doing so, not that he would ask now, though. 

The boys continued for a short while longer until they came to the village well, located in the main town square. It was then that Cartman began to slow down and appeared to be commencing his search for the blonde, Stan following suit. He ran his eyes over the downtrodden city centre, looking past the various stray dogs, goats, and large, unkempt hay bales and tried to locate the blonde in the darkened area, the task harder than it seemed. Finally, the black haired boy’s eyes caught a glimpse of a slim figure that laid down flat on the ground near a wooden bench, the figure sporting bright yellow hair that gave away his identity immediately. 

“Over there!” Stan said, calling over the animal sounds as he turned to Cartman and pointed in Kenny’s direction. The boys went running up to the light haired boy and knelt down beside him, Stan quickly grasping the severity of the blonde’s situation. 

“…Kenny?” Stan said quietly, lifting Kenny’s head up off the ground and craning his neck in his direction. 

“Hey guys.” Kenny said with a cough, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

“Goddammit Kenny; I told you to stay by the well! You made us waste time by looking all over the square for you.” Cartman said in an angry tone that made Stan raise an eyebrow. 

“Dude, you don’t have to be so harsh on him.” The black haired boy said, giving him a hard glare.

Kenny waved a dismissive hand at Stan, “No, don’t worry. That’s how he shows he cares.” 

Cartman let out a dry laugh, “You’re damn right I care. We need to get you out of here now. Stan, get on the other side and help me lift him up.” The brunette instructed, Stan obeying without question. On 3 they hoisted the slender boy up and balanced him between the two of them, Kenny wrapping one arm around each of their shoulders to keep him upright. 

“Fuck; you lost so much weight.” Eric said as the three of them began to take their first steps towards the direction of the tunnel, Stan and Cartman trying to figure out a system that would allow for their walking to be done in harmony. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you can’t keep anything down for a week.” Kenny said, making gagging sounds, as he appeared to be holding back a vomiting spout. Stan craned his head over to Cartman and watched him bite his lower lip, keeping his head forward as he let out a sigh, clearly just trying not to lose it. 

“Kenny, why didn’t you come to us before it got this bad? Me and Cartman could’ve tried to help you.” Stan asked solemnly, his dark blue eyes scanning Kenny up and down, discovering more and more worrying signs. He was almost completely hunched over, seemingly unable to stand up straight, wincing in pain, his nose and mouth covered in dried up blood. The blonde put his full weight on their shoulders, completely out of breath even from simply dragging his feet on the ground. But the most worrying sign of all was the blackened state of his fingers that were slung over Stan’s shoulder, the raven haired boy having never seen the condition this close. 

“How could I have? You know how it is; we’re not allowed to say anything.” The peasant said straightforwardly, Cartman shaking his head in dismay. 

“Yeah okay, but you know I don’t give a shit about what the King ordains when it comes to something like oh, I don’t know, your life. I wouldn’t have told anyone and maybe you could’ve gotten help so you didn’t end up like… this.” Eric said, sounding like he was trying not to choke on his words. 

“Dude, I didn’t even know that I wasn’t contagious until a little while ago. I didn’t want you guys to catch it too.” Kenny said in defense, quickly taking his arms off of their shoulders as he bent forward and clutched his stomach. 

“How’d you figure out you weren’t contagious?” Stan asked, rubbing his back as he tried to take Kenny’s mind off of the vomiting spell it looked like he was about to have. With Stan having gag reflex problems of his own as a child, he knew that trying to think of something else was a good way to distract himself from the sickening feeling, hoping that his question would have a similar effect. 

“I…I figured it out when no one else in my family caught what I had. I guess I was lucky enough not to get the one that makes you cough a lot.” Kenny let out, holding his hand over his mouth. “You know, I heard people say that there’s more than one type of the pla--”

“No!” Cartman interrupted, gripping Kenny’s shoulder tightly. “Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking dare.” 

The blonde let out a sigh, locking his violet eyes with the brunette. “Cartman, I’m not stupid. I’ve seen this before; it’s all over our village now. What else could it be?” 

Cartman bit his lip, “It…it could be anything. We can’t be sure until we get you to a doctor.” He said, his voice weak. “Ike’s gonna help you. He’s gonna find a way to make you better; I know he will.” 

Kenny’s eyes went soft as he smiled weakly at the Bishop, “Okay Cartman; I’ll hang in for you.” 

The two best friends exchanged warm glances, Cartman looking only slightly less distraught as he went to hoist the peasant back up, the motion only reawakening the nauseating feeling inside of him, ultimately ending with Kenny spewing out a mixture of acid and blood onto the ground in front of them. The three of them stood in silence for a short while after that, waiting for Kenny to recover. There was a foul smell that lingered in the air, the smell awakening a nauseating feeling in Stan too, the raven haired boy having to leave so he could puke in nearby bushes away from the two of them- something he hadn’t done in quite a while.

Once the three of them were ready, they set out towards the tunnel, finally reaching it after a few more stops to allow the blonde to purge out what little he had left in his stomach. Manoeuvering him in and out of the tunnel proved to be the hardest part of their journey, but once they were finally out of the cramped space, there was only one more short walk left to Kyle’s house, the redhead not aware in the slightest about anything that had gone on that morning. 

When Kyle opened his front door, he was met with a surprise to see not only his student, but his two best friends as well. 

“Is Ike awake?” Cartman asked, looking at him straight on.

“He’s…sleeping.” Kyle said, catching a glimpse of Kenny midsentence, slung between Stan and Cartman’s arms. The redhead’s eyes drooped as he ran them up and down the peasant’s downtrodden form, catching on quickly as to why everyone was there so early that morning. 

“…But don’t worry; I’ll get him up.” 

 

Kyle let the three of them inside and led them down to a place Stan had yet to see; a cold and reclusive place, presumably where Kenny could have privacy, otherwise known as the cellar. The room was nearly empty besides racks where a few bottles of red wine were placed, along with some salted meats, a few pieces of furniture, and a large wooden table in the centre that Kenny would be laid upon, that is, after Kyle went and grabbed some pillows and blankets to place on top.

“I know it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I’ll work on getting a bed down here when everyone’s up. For now you just need to lie down.” Kyle said, gently laying Kenny’s head down on a feather pillow, the blonde barely able to keep his eyes open as he attempted a smile the redhead’s way. 

“Thanks, Kyle. This means a lot.” He said, wiping a bit of the blood from the corners of his mouth. 

The three of them took a seat on chairs around Kenny as they waited for Ike to descend down the ladder, the spiky haired boy arriving soon after with some large scrolls of parchment in his hands- the scrolls likely being a collection of medical notes he acquired so far, Stan had to guess.

After a routine examination from the new medical student, the young black haired boy let out a heavy sigh as he read over his notes, trying to hide his unmistakably grim expression from Kenny. 

“Kenny, do you want me to tell you what I think it is in private, or can these guys hear too?” Ike asked, brushing his dirty blonde hair off his face. 

Kenny shrugged, “It doesn’t matter. I think we all already know what’s coming.”

Everyone went quiet, Kenny’s answer being accurate as ever. The plague wasn’t something uncommon in their part of the kingdom, nor any kingdom in the surrounding area for that matter. It was something that claimed lives at an alarming rate once an area became contaminated with it, the disease killing more than a thousand battles would, with most of those people being in the lower class.  
Before Ike had a chance to speak, Cartman got up silently and retreated to an even darker part of the cellar, turning a corner and disappearing into what Stan could only presume was a small room where he could avoid hearing what he already assumed from the moment he found him that morning. 

Ike and Kyle let out a collective sigh as they looked at each other with solemn eyes. Ike waited another short while before he began to whisper his findings to the small group that was left, the three of them gathered around Kenny’s nearly motionless form that laid sprawled on the table. 

“Kenny, from what I can see, it looks like a form of the plague, but since you said that you haven’t been coughing too much and that no one else in your family seems to have caught it from you either, it’s probably not the type that’s spread through sharing the same air.” He said, placing a gentle hand on Kenny’s forehead. “You have a fever, and you look really weak. So that, along with your vomiting and… black toes and fingers, it makes me think that it’s one of the other types.” 

Kenny’s eyes fluttered open, his expression unchanging as he took a deep sigh. “Jesus; how many types are there?” 

Ike gulped, “Well, there’s the type that’s spread through the air, the type that causes the boils to form, and… your type. Your type’s the rarest, at least from what I know.” He said, everyone’s eyes on Kenny as they watched his chest rise and fall with great strain. 

“I hate to ask, but is there a cure you know of?” The blonde said with a tilt of his head, his eyelids struggling to stay up. 

All heads turned to Ike, the black haired boy diverging his eyes from all of them as he answered, “Well, I’m not a doctor yet, so I can’t give you an answer. But I can ask one of my professors about what to do in your case, and I’ll try to get you some medicine from him.” 

Kenny shook his head, “Ike, I can’t afford any medicine.” 

Kyle placed his hand on Kenny’s arm and looked down at him, “Dude; don’t worry about the money. All of us can chip in. If there’s anything we can find to get you better, we’re going to get it for you, no matter what it costs.” 

Kenny smiled up at Kyle, “Guys, that’s really nice of you, but you don’t need to do that.” 

The sound of a scoff filled the confined space as Cartman emerged from the back, “Like hell we don’t. Kenny, we mean it when we say no matter what. We’re not letting you give up without a fight. There’s no way.” 

Kenny sighed as he turned Eric’s way, “Cartman: look at me. Don’t kid yourself; you know there’s no cure.” He said, letting out a cough. “You’re just gonna have to come to peace with it like I did. You guys can try to find something to ease the pain, but besides that? There’s nothing you can do, dude. All I can really ask is for you to accept that, and believe me when I say that it’s gonna be okay. Even if I die, it’s gonna be okay.” He let out, sticking out a weak hand and clutching Cartman’s. 

Cartman shook his head slowly, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye. “You’re not gonna die, Kenny. You… you can’t.” 

The blonde didn’t reply, at least not verbally. He merely squeezed Cartman’s hand tighter, the brunette shutting his eyes as he did what he could to hold himself back, no one saying as word as a heavy silence began to fall over the cellar. 

Time passed, and eventually, Kenny fell asleep right there on the table. Everyone watched his chest rise and fall, all of them knowing that at that stage in his disease, a disease that deteriorated the body so fast and so aggressively, that any one of those rise and falls could be his last. 

 

“Why wasn’t Kenny allowed to tell any of us when he got sick?” Stan asked quietly, eyes still gazing at Kenny’s withered form. 

Kyle swallowed before he answered, “It’s one of the rules in the village. No one can leave once they’re infected with anything that even resembles the plague; the King doesn’t want them to risk spreading it to the gentry.” 

Cartman nodded, “Yeah, that and they don’t want word getting around to anyone outside the kingdom when there’s an epidemic in the village, you know, because the village is where more than three quarters of the people in Verhalten live.” 

Stan gulped, “...’Cause that would be a perfect time for another army to attack, right when they know we’re at our weakest.” 

“Yup.” Cartman said in agreement. “It’s a pretty shit deal from the peasant’s end of the bargain, huh?” 

Kyle nodded, “That’s an understatement.” He said, taking a pause before looking back up at Cartman, “Wait, Cartman; how’d you even find out Kenny was sick, then?” 

The brunette scratched the back of his neck, letting out a long sigh before he answered. “I… I was on important business near his part of town, and I had to pass through the village to get to where I needed to go.” 

Kyle cocked his head to the side, “Dressed like that?” He asked, referring to his tunic. Cartman went quiet, and during that silence, Stan came to a realisation. 

“You went to go see your mom, didn’t you? On Bathurst Street?” He asked. Cartman picked his head back up to look at the raven haired boy and shook his head. 

“You’ve got a better memory than I thought you would.” He said with a bitter laugh. “But yeah, I did. I’ve been trying to see her more lately.” 

Kyle bit his lower lip, “You gotta be careful, dude. You might think you’re being discreet, but the Church has spies all over, like we all found out.” 

Stan tilted his head to the side, “What do you mean by that?” 

Kyle let out a slow breath, “Stan, how many people do you know named Haman? And Catholic people at that?” He asked, shaking his head, Cartman and Stan exchanging estranged glances. “Guys, he followed us to the cemetery that night. He heard me talk about where the Torah was buried, and where my grandfather was too- the one I’m named after. Hell, he probably even saw the flowers you guys put on his grave.” 

Stan cocked and eyebrow, “Dude, why would he follow us all the way there?” 

Kyle scoffed, “How am I supposed to know? Maybe because he was checking to make sure I didn’t cross over any boundaries? I don’t know _why_ he did it, but I know he did, and that’s why he interrogated me so much when he saw me; he already knew who I was before we even started talking.” Kyle said, convinced. 

Ike reached out and placed a hand on Kyle’s knee, “Dude, I think you’re just paranoid after…” 

“Ike, I’m not paranoid! I _know_.” Kyle snapped, cutting him off. “He told me his name was Haman, and after he said it, he _paused_. Ike, he was waiting for a reaction from me. I know he was.” 

Ike knit his eyebrows together, “What if that was just a coincidence?” 

Kyle let out a laugh, “Yeah, a coincidence that an Arch Bishop who calls himself _Haman_ would try to get a Jew named _Mordechai_ jailed. I don’t think so.” 

“Kyle, he couldn’t have just changed his name that night. That was his name long before he even knew who you were.” Ike said, trying to talk some reason into his brother. 

Kyle couldn’t help but sigh, taking a moment to himself before he looked back across to his brother, “Maybe before he knew me, but not before he knew… _him_.” 

Stan and Cartman looked at each other, confused looks etched across both of their faces as they observed the serious look on Kyle’s and the unconvinced look on Ike’s. Ultimately, the young black haired boy let out a sigh and rose from his chair, cracking his back as he stood up. 

“I’m going to go into town and see if I can get anything for Kenny. I’ll be back later today.” Ike said, heading towards the ladder that led out of the cellar. “Cartman, Stan; I think you guys should get going: it’s daylight already.” 

The two Christians looked at each other and sighed, directing their eyes one last time towards Kenny, Cartman gripping the arm of the sleeping blonde as he approached his ear and spoke into it softly.  
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, and every other morning after that until you get better, okay Kinny?” He said, his eyes looking weary. 

Stan cleared his throat, nearing Kenny’s other ear as he began to speak, “Yeah; we’ll be right back here tomorrow. If there’s anything we can do to get you better, we’ll do it. We promise.” 

With that, the three of them exited, leaving Kenny alone for a few minutes as they departed from the house, waiting on Kyle’s front lawn for the coast to be clear before Cartman and Stan descended back down into the tunnel and return to their world. 

“So you’ll watch over him for the whole day, right? And you’ll make sure he has enough food, water, blankets, and whatever else he needs?” Cartman asked Kyle, his tone urgent. 

Kyle nodded, placing a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, “I’ll take care of him just like you would. You don’t need to worry, okay?” 

Cartman let out a long sigh as he picked his head up, finally nodding at Kyle, the nod speaking for itself. 

The three of them shared one last glance before Cartman and Stan saw their opportunity come, the crowd of people clearing the area for a moment, a moment they took full advantage of as they quickly ran across Kyle’s yard and slipped into the hole, undetected. As they made their way through the tunnel, they no longer carried Kenny between them, yet, somehow, Stan still managed to feel an even heavier weight on his shoulders than before…

 

The next day came quickly. Cartman and Stan rose well before the sun was up and made their way to the corner, which was where they agreed upon for their newly decided meeting spot, the two of them of course planning on making a habit of visiting Kenny at Kyle’s house, that was, at least until Kenny got better. Wordlessly, they traveled down through the tunnel and made their way back to the ghetto, looks of anticipation etched on their tired faces as they stood at Kyle’s door, waiting for them to be allowed entry. 

Ike cracked open the door and greeted them with a nod, permitting their entrance as they made their way through the Broflovski house and towards the cellar. 

“I’ll put you out of your misery and tell you that Kenny made it through the night.” Ike announced, taking the lead as he scaled the ladder, Cartman following closely behind him. 

Stan watched as Cartman’s chest fell, a great exhale escaping him as he took the news with a grain of salt, relieved for the moment. 

“Thank god…” 

When the three boys made their way into the basement, they saw that Kenny was in the same place as where they left him yesterday, only this time with a few more supplies by his side. A giant silver bowl was placed by the head of the table, well, his makeshift bed, as well as a glass of water and some small pieces of dried bread, all of which looked fairly untouched. 

“My mom said it’d be too hard to bring a mattress down here, so she just sent down a lot of extra pillows and quilts.” Kyle said, pointing to the new padding that was added to the table that stuck out from under Kenny’s slim body. Cartman stared at his friend with sombre eyes, eyes that held in them the weight of all their years of friendship; a weight that seemed so incredibly heavy to bare. 

The brunette grabbed a corner of the blanket and pulled it right up to Kenny’s chin, tucking him in tight like a mother would a child. Eric waited silently, looking as though he was waiting for him to respond in some way, a response not looking like it was coming any time soon. 

“How long has he been asleep for?” Cartman asked in a low voice. 

Kyle cleared his throat, “For a while now. He’s still breathing, though. I… I keep checking.” 

Silence fell yet again. 

 

“…It’s crazy how something this bad could come on so fast.” Stan said, finally breaking the silence. 

Ike picked up his head and let out a sigh, “Actually, it’s pretty normal in terms of what happens when you get infected with the plague. Kenny’s lucky he’s lived this long, to be honest. Most people with his type di--”

“Ike! Fuck, just… stop.” Cartman said weakly, clutching Kenny’s limp hand. “…Just stop.” 

 

The four of them just sat around Kenny. Sat in complete and utter stillness, the only sounds to be heard being those of water droplets as they dripped into a tin bucket somewhere off in the corner. Eventually, Kyle picked up his eyes and met Stan’s, signaling for him to get up as he did, gesturing to the corner that Cartman went off to the day before. Ike followed suit and ascended the ladder, leaving Cartman to be alone with his best friend, everyone unsure of so much at that point…

“You know, Cartman and Kenny have been inseparable for as long as I can remember.” Kyle said softly to Stan as they sat down in two empty chairs that were hidden off to the side in the tiny, exposed room. “They didn’t just goof off together as kids. They were there for each other when I couldn’t be there for them, or when no one else could, for that matter- not even their families. So in a way, they were kind of more like brothers.” Kyle said with a fond smile before his expression turned grim again. “I just… really hope Cartman doesn’t blame himself for this.”

Stan raised an eyebrow Kyle’s way, “Why would he do that? Didn’t you guys just tell me yesterday that Kenny wasn’t even allowed to leave the village once he started feeling sick?”

Kyle let out a bitter laugh, “Yeah, and? I’m sure you still blame yourself on some level for me getting caught at the banquet.” He said, Stan unable to deny the accusation. “But see what I mean, dude? There’s a good chance that Cartman will look back and think that if he had only… I don’t know what, that he could’ve saved Kenny from becoming so ill, even though there was nothing he could’ve done; nothing that any of us could’ve done…” 

Stan shook his head, “Kyle, you’re talking like he’s already dead.” 

Kyle lifted his head up and looked at the dark haired boy sitting across from him straight on. 

“Stan…” Was all Kyle needed to say for the knight to understand his point, he dark haired boy merely bowing his head in response, knowing full well that thinking anything other than the obvious was pure, delusional optimism. 

The two boys waited a short while longer, not wanting to interrupt Cartman as he spoke to Kenny, the blonde still in a state of deep sleep. Stan could tell that seeing Cartman in this state was heartbreaking for Kyle, judging by the way the redhead sighed to himself as he sat still on his chair, listening in to parts of their one-way conversation. The brunette who was normally so vibrant, loud and full of life was in a state of brokenness; his entire being taking a hit as his whole demeanor changed into one that was having trouble holding onto a last shred of hope, something Stan couldn’t imagine was possible to this extent in someone like Cartman. 

As Cartman’s conversation with Kenny was seeming to come to a close, Stan stood up and stretched his back, taking a quick glance over at a collection of pieces of parchment that laid in a pile atop a small table, one of them catching his attention. 

“Hey, that one’s written in Latin.” The black haired boy said quietly, pointing in the parchment’s direction. Kyle got up off his seat and took a look, smiling as he realised what Stan was referring to. 

“Yeah; Cartman wrote me that, actually, a long time ago when we were kids; probably when we were around 11 or 12.” He said in a whisper. 

“What is it?” Stan asked, cocking his head to the side as he tried to get a better look at it.

“You can read it if you want. He told me that it’s a poem. I’m not sure what it says, to be honest, but I like to keep things like that, you know, for memory’s sake.” He explained, reaching over and digging the fairly long piece of parchment out of the pile and handing it to Stan. 

The black haired boy unwrinkled the piece of paper and held it out so he could read it, curious as to what type of poetry 12 year old Cartman could’ve written. The first thing he noticed was the penmanship, which was really quite beautiful, more beautiful than Stan’s admittedly, but the second thing that he noticed upon beginning to read the poem was that it was in fact not a poem at all, but rather… well, Stan didn’t know what to call it. 

_Kyle,_

_Hey Jew. Did your mom figure out that it was me and Kenny who stole all her hair grease and put it on that stray cat’s fur, the orange one that lives at the corner? Ha, probably not, not that she’ll be able to read this anyways, but hey, I felt like getting that off my chest without getting in trouble, so there it is. Actually, that was kind of the reason I wanted to write this letter thing in the first place. When I give this to you, I’m gonna tell you that it’s a poem, and I don’t think you’ll ever learn how to read Latin, but if you ever did and still kept this shitty letter around for some reason, you’d be surprised when you see what it actually says._

_I don’t really know why I’m writing this. Maybe because I’m a coward and can’t say this to your face, so why not say it in a letter, right? Who am I kidding? Of course I’m a fucking coward. I can’t even tell you that you’ve always been.... special to me, more than anyone else in this crappy town ever has, and not just because you put up with my shit. It’s more than that, even though that’s a miracle in itself. But I don’t think I need to spell it out to you to get what I’m saying; you’re a smart guy- I’m sure you can figure it out . God, that sounded stupid as hell, but I don’t really know how to put it without sounding like an idiot, so there it is._

_Obviously I thought about saying that to your face a bunch of times, but what good would it do? Soon I’ll be telling you that I have to get shipped away to a cathedral in the city and I won’t be able to come back here for a while… I can’t tell you for how long, but I already know that it’ll feel like forever. I bet when I come back you’ll be all mature and probably be married to a nice Jewish girl like your parents want- probably that girl Rebecca. She’s nice I guess, and your mom seems to think you guys are soul mates or whatever, but for some reason, I don’t see it. All I see is how whenever she hugs you, you kinda cringe when she lets go. It’s pretty funny, actually. If only your mom saw that face you made…_

_Kyle, I just hope you remember me when I get back. And I hope you don’t hate me, cause that would really suck... I just hope you’ll be able to remember all the fun times we had, and that you’ll be able to see me as your friend Cartman and not just some priest. I swear to god Kyle, if I could become a goddam rabbi, I probably would, but I don’t think my parents would like that too much. Plus, that’d mean I’d have to become a Jew, and that’d mean if I was one too, then I couldn’t pick on you for that anymore, and that wouldn’t be fun, now would it?_

_I hope I can get up the courage to at least tell you some of this, but even if I can’t, at least I can say that I tried._

_Eric Theodore Cartman_

….

“So what did he write about?” Kyle asked, knocking Stan out of his trance. The black haired boy shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the page.

“It was, uh… it was just pretty much a poem making fun of you and Kenny, and, you know, talking about the adventures you guys used to go on.” He said, trying to mask his look of surprise. 

Kyle let out a laugh, “Yeah, figures. But hey, I think the sun’s up by now; you and Cartman should probably get going before too many people are up.” 

Stan nodded, “Yeah, sure; will do...”


	15. Chapter 15

The atmosphere around Verhalten was changing. 

When Cartman’s primary church was switched to one that was in close proximity to the peasant village, that was when he really started to see and report back to his friends the extent of the epidemic that was there, the epidemic that had already made its way to Kenny. According to the brunette, the extent of the deadly infection was getting too big to hide, this being something Stan could confirm, seeing as it was even becoming a topic of discussion among Stan’s fellow knights- men who wouldn’t usually give a shit about what was going on on the ‘poor’ side of town. There started to become a rise in town meetings that Stan’s father was being called to attend, along with more constant drop-ins by local doctors who examined all the members of each household in Stan’s neighbourhood, along with many others in his area. It was the first time in a long time that Stan ever felt vulnerable in his town, a feeling that was hard to swallow, even for someone who was perfectly healthy. 

Yet despite the astronomical rise in sick persons, there was still good news to be found: Kenny was appearing to… recover. Over the duration of the past few weeks of visits, the blonde’s appetite seemed to have returned, along with some of his strength. He was now able to sit up while he spoke to his friends and engage in full conversations without falling asleep on the table, which was a huge improvement. His fever had all but disappeared, and so had his stomach’s constant need to purge out everything he consumed. His blackened fingers and toes remained and served as a constant reminder that he was not fully well as of yet, but in general, the morale in the small group was much higher, something that was in stark contrast to the mood of the rest of the town. 

“Kenny, I don’t know how the fuck you did it.” Cartman said, leaning back on his chair as he raised an eyebrow the blonde’s way. “While everybody else around here’s dying left and right, you somehow managed to come back from the dead like Lazarus or something.” 

Kenny smiled, “Yeah well, maybe that’s because I was raised to be resilient, growing up with next to nothing and all.” 

Eric let out a playful scoff, “Yeah, or maybe because we rescued you from the slums and brought you here, you know, away from all the filth.” Cartman said with a laugh, “That, or maybe Ike performed some Jew magic on you.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Oh god…” 

Kenny cocked an eyebrow Kyle’s way, “Hey dude, clearly the Jew magic worked. You should be proud.” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Cartman lately.” 

Kenny couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, maybe.” He said with a grin, his gaze going from Kyle to Stan. “You sure got a good deal out of this, huh? Me almost dying meant that you haven’t had to do your lessons for like two weeks.” 

Kyle’s mouth twisted into a strange expression as he too turned to Stan, the black haired boy merely shrugging. 

“Hey, whenever you’re ready to start the lessons back up again, just say the word.” Stan said straightforwardly, returning Kyle’s gaze. The redhead bit his lower lip, appearing to be in a state of thought.

“Well, I didn’t want to do them while Kenny was still sick and all, but now…” 

Kenny couldn’t help but chuckle, “But now I’m doing a lot better, so you can get back to illegally teaching your Christian Hebrew. It’s fine by me.” 

Kyle knit his eyebrows together, “Are you sure, dude? I feel kind of bad leaving you…” 

Kenny placed a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, “Kyle; you’ve literally been right here by my side for like two weeks straight. You’re letting me stay in your house, your mom’s been feeding me, giving me clothes to wear…Trust me; you have no reason to feel bad about leaving for an hour to do your lessons with Stan.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but give him a closed mouth smile, sighing as he tried to let the guilty feeling leave his body. “Alright; as long as it’s okay with you.” 

Kenny nodded, “Don’t worry; it is.” He said warmly. “Plus, I’ve got Cartman right here. He can corrupt me for the whole time you’re gone.” 

Kyle shook his head as he turned the Bishop’s way. “He better not be calling me ‘Jew’ by the time this is all said and done.” 

Cartman raised an eyebrow at the redhead, “No guarantees. I’m a pretty influential person, you know.” 

Kyle laughed, shaking his head, “Yeah, unfortunately.” 

“Hey, it saved your life before, remember?” Eric said with a raised eyebrow. 

Kyle merely flashed him a smile back, his expression speaking for more than his words could. 

“Come on Stan, we should get writing now if we want to make any progress today.” Kyle said, standing up. “But to be honest, I’m kind of worried about how much you forgot over these past few weeks…” 

Stan’s eyes met up with Kyle’s as he too stood up, the black haired boy giving him a smile, “You know, I figured you might be, so for your sake, I’ve been going over my notes these past few nights.” 

Kyle raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest, “Really?” 

Stan nodded. “Really.” 

Kenny couldn’t help but smirk, “Wow Kyle, you’ve got yourself a dedicated student there.” 

Kyle simply smiled. “Yeah; I got lucky, didn’t I?” 

 

With Kenny’s blessing, the two boys ascended the ladder and made their way towards the backyard, Kyle stopping by first in the kitchen in search of his bag of writing supplies, the bag having gone untouched for quite some time. Yet during Kyle’s search, both Kyle and Stan were caught off guard as they heard Kenny’s voice call out from the depths of the cellar, the confined room amplifying the sound of his voice as it echoed off the walls. 

“Hey, guys?” He asked. 

“What is it, Kenny?” Kyle called back, grabbing the bag and making his way back towards the cellar entrance. 

“Umm… is there any chance you’d be able to start your lessons tomorrow? Cartman reminded me of something that I haven’t had in a while that I can only find around here, and I was wondering if you could get it for me.” He asked vaguely. 

Kyle looked at Stan and shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so. What is it, though?” 

“Wild strawberries.” Kenny called back up. “There’s a patch of them not too far from here, near that old, abandoned barn we used to play hide and seek in. The green one.” 

Kyle rubbed his chin for a few seconds, looking as though he was trying hard to recall a distant memory. 

“Hmm…wait, oh yeah; I remember now! Okay dude, we’ll go get some for you.” Kyle said, pausing as he appeared to begin to reminisce, a fond smile forming on his face. 

Stan smiled back at the redhead, “So… we’re going strawberry picking now instead?” 

Kyle laughed, “Yeah, I guess so. Lucky you, huh? Looks like you’re off the hook for another day.” 

 

With the sudden change of plans, the boys traded their bag of writing supplies for the first tin bucket they could find, knowing that they still really wouldn’t have too much time by the time they got there. 

Kyle led the way as they meandered down the street, Stan picturing a young Kyle walking side by side with his two best friends as they headed for the strawberry patch, probably more in search of an adventure than the food itself. 

The merchant looked as though he had to think hard to remember exactly where he had to go, heading down a few streets and then quickly turning back, mumbling to himself as he tried to fix his mistakes. The scenery soon began to change as Kyle led them away from the densely packed houses as they proceeded to a more sparsely populated area where empty lots and gardens starting to replace the homes. 

Eventually, the boys came to the place that they were requested to stop by at, the green barn that Kenny described and Kyle’s look of assurance giving away that they had in fact arrived. The patch was small- hardly even a few lots wide- yet within that small patch of greenery, there were specks and specks of vibrant red that poked out from within, giving the tiny area a springtime glow. 

Stan took in a deep breath as he breathed in some of the fresh air, a subtle sweet smell lingering in the area, a smell he had yet to take in in the ghetto. 

Kyle laughed to himself, “Probably wasn’t what you were expecting, huh?” He asked, taking a look around. “I’m sure your fields are a lot bigger than this one, but you know, we don’t really have a lot of open land around here.” 

Stan shrugged, “Well, it looks like there’s more than enough here to fill the bucket, and that’s all we really need anyways.” 

Kyle smiled, “Yeah; this’ll probably get full after only a couple minutes of picking. And you know, in hindsight, I should’ve tried to find a bigger one: Cartman can get through a bucket like this in less than five minutes.” 

Stan couldn’t help but laugh to himself, “Yeah; I’ll bet.” 

 

With that, the boys began their picking, the tiny strawberries filling the bucket up not quite as fast as Stan anticipated it would. It was a relaxing activity for the both of them, which was a nice change in pace from watching over Kenny in the darkened cellar for so long. There was a crisp early morning breeze that washed over them, the chilliness reminding Stan of just how early it still was, the sun still having yet to rise. 

“Hey Kyle,” Stan asked, taking a handful of the little berries from the redhead. “I was kind of wondering about what you were talking about a few weeks back; you know, about the whole Haman thing…”  
Kyle picked up an eyebrow, “Oh? What about it?” 

Stan scratched the back of his neck, “…Well, there was one time when Ike called you paranoid about something, something that happened before that made you think that Haman… changed his name? Do you remember that?”

Kyle laughed a quietly to himself, “Yeah; I remember it.” He said, biting his lip. “I… wasn’t really planning on explaining that to anyone, but I guess there’s not really any harm in you knowing, at least not now anyways.” 

Stan cocked his head to the side, “Dude, I mean, if it’s too personal…” 

Kyle shook his head, “No, no. It’s not that. Actually, it’s not even directly about me. It’s kind of just… a family secret, but then again, it’s not really a secret anymore, at least not to anyone in this ghetto.” Kyle said, laughing to himself, “And besides, you already know about the tunnel, and that’s supposed to be a secret too.” 

Stan furrowed his brows. “But you won’t get in trouble for telling me, will you?” 

Kyle cross his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, “Because now all of a sudden you’re concerned about getting in trouble, considering all the other shit we’ve been doing these past few months?” 

Stan let out a hard laugh, “Good point.” 

Kyle smirked, “I thought so.” He said as he cleared his throat and proceeded to take a seat on the grass, Stan setting the bucket down and giving Kyle his full attention, sitting right beside him. 

“Alright, well, everything started a long time before I was born with my grandfather, Mordechai, the one whose grave I took you to visit a while back.” Kyle said as a reminder. “Like I told you, he was a rabbi, but as far as rabbis go, he was… a little less orthodox than most. See, he fell in love with someone, which, in itself isn’t a big deal considering rabbis are allowed to marry, but this someone just so happened to be a… Catholic.” 

Stan quirked an eyebrow, waiting to Kyle to clear his throat so he could continue, the black haired boy having a hard time repressing a grin. 

“Anyway, so this Catholic girl, Lilian, was extremely pretty in an obvious sort of way; you know, long, white blonde hair, big blue eyes, a nice smile- you know, your typical maiden, but according to my grandfather, her personality was even more amazing than her looks.” He said, looking off into the distance. “Apparently they used to go for walks in the woods that bordered the ghetto, and that was where they did most of their talking.” 

Stan nodded, leaning back on his elbows as he settled in for the story on the dewy morning grass. “Did you ever get to meet her?” 

Kyle gave a closed mouth smile, “Yeah; I did, but I was really young at the time, so I don’t remember her much, but from what I do, she seemed like a pretty sweet lady.” 

Stan smiled, admiring the fond look of reflection on Kyle’s face. “So was that the only problem, then? That she was Catholic?” 

Kyle shook his head, “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? But no; that was only the beginning of their problems. See, she was also… married.” 

Stan cocked an eyebrow, “Shit, dude.” 

Kyle laughed to himself, “Yeah, but it gets worse. See, she wasn’t just married: she was married to a Bishop.”

“Jesus…” Stan said, turning towards Kyle, “But wait, aren’t Bishops not even allowed to get married?” 

Kyle let out a sigh, “Yeah, those are the rules, aren’t they? But hey, just because you set the rules doesn’t mean you have to follow them, right?” 

Stan shook his head, “You gotta love people who think they’re above the law.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Yup… But anyway, so that was their predicament: she was married, but that was something my grandfather didn’t even know until a while later. She eventually told him that it was pretty much something she was forced into and never loved him to begin with. She also said that she was hoping that maybe after a few years of being together that she could start to kind of… accept her situation and see the best in it, but that didn’t seem to be working either…” Kyle said, letting out a sigh before a smile began to cross his face. 

“She told my grandfather… the only real happiness she’d felt in years was when she was with him, walking side by side in the woods, and that that was better than anything her husband’s money could’ve ever bought her.” 

Stan grinned, watching Kyle’s face soften as he told the romantic story, a new side of his personality emerging that Stan never knew was there before. 

“So what ended up happening with them?” Stan asked. 

Kyle lowered his head, “I mean, I think you can already tell by the way this started that it doesn’t end well.” He said honestly, letting out a sigh. “So… the two of them kept getting closer, without her husband knowing. She even got to the point where she wanted to become Jewish just so she could live in the ghetto with my grandfather- kind of wanting to disappear off the map.” Kyle said, shaking his head, “I _really_ don’t think she had all the kinks in her plan worked out.” 

“You think?” Stan chuckled. “So she really thought that she could just hide out in the ghetto forever and not have to deal with... anything back home? Just leave everyone without telling them where she was going and if she was ever coming back?” 

Kyle nodded, “Yeah, dude; I think that was the plan.” 

Stan shook his head, “Ha, well… I guess your grandfather must’ve been quite a guy if she was willing to give up pretty much everything just to be with him.” 

Kyle laughed, “Yeah, well, you know what they say: people do crazy things when they’re in love.” 

Stan bit his lip and brought his eyes up to meet Kyle’s, pausing for a moment before he spoke again. “Have you ever done anything crazy when you were in love?” 

Stan’s question seemed to catch Kyle off guard, the redhead’s eyes widening for a moment upon hearing it. Kyle said nothing for a short while, looking as though he was tracing back through assorted memories. 

“Honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before.” He said simply, swallowing before added his next part. “…At least not yet.” 

Stan scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah… I don’t think I have either. Not yet.” 

 

Kyle nodded before turning back to the full bucket that stood in between them on the grass. 

“Hmm… Maybe we should look for another bucket to fill: this is barely anything. I’m sure we can find one in that barn.” The redhead suggested, pointing to the nearby structure. 

Stan raised an eyebrow, “You don’t wanna finish your story?” 

Kyle shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe another time. We should get these for Kenny first before it gets too late.” 

Stan nodded, and with that, the boys made the quick trek across the street to the abandoned barn. It looked fairly large from the exterior, and when the boys entered, Stan saw that it was even larger on the inside. It had a lower and upper floor that were separated by an old yet sturdy-looking ladder. The entire ground was covered in a thick layer of dried hay, with large piles of softer looking hay lining the perimeter of the place. There were a few panels missing from the barn itself, which allowed a few streams of sunlight to shine through, giving the dark building enough visible light so that the boys could walk around without worrying about tripping over anything. 

The boys then commenced their search for a second bucket, Stan’s eyes passing over some other objects, such as a few rakes, some shovels, a wheel barrow in the corner…seemingly everything but what they wanted. 

After their search of the first floor came up empty, they decided to head up the ladder to the upper floor for one last attempt at uncovering what they came in for, both agreeing that if they didn’t find anything within a few minutes, Kenny and Cartman would have to settle with the insufficient amount they had. 

As the boys continued their search on the upper floor, Stan couldn’t help but be more preoccupied with the sweltering heat inside the barn than the actual task at hand. Summers in Verhalten were always warm ones, but this one was proving to be one of the worst in years, or at least, that’s what it seemed like to him. 

Beads of sweat continued to fall down Stan’s face, the knight forever wiping them away only to be replaced by new ones. After a few more minutes of shifting through stacks of hay, the black haired boy plopped himself down in a thick pile in a corner of the barn. 

“Dude; I don’t think there’s anything here.” Stan said with a sigh, settling into the soft pile of yellow straw. 

Kyle rolled his eyes as he made his way over to the raven haired boy, crossing his arms as he stood over him. 

“Well not down there there isn’t.” Kyle said with a raised eyebrow. “Just get up, dude; we’re almost done looking. You can handle a few more minutes.” 

Stan let out a long breath, “Don’t you think Kenny’ll be fine with what we already picked? All we have to do is keep it away from Cartman and we’ll be good.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but scoff, “Stan; you’re getting out of Hebrew lessons today because we got asked to pick some berries, so the least you can do is not be lazy about it.” He said, narrowing his eyes at the black haired boy. “I’m not giving up a whole day of training just for you to sit on some hay.” 

Stan flashed him a smile, “Ah come on, you gotta try this out; it’s so soft. I swear to god it’s like lying on a cloud.” He said, patting the straw down beside him. 

“So?” Kyle said, raising an eyebrow. “Stan, I’m serious. Just get up.” 

Stan couldn’t help but laugh, observing Kyle’s rigid form as he stood over him. “You know, you’re cute when you’re angry.” 

Kyle’s eyes went wide for a second before he played it off with a playful chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m angry a lot.” 

Stan’s smile remained. “I know.” 

Stan watched as Kyle’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, the redhead not getting any time to think before the knight acted next. Stan sat up straight, grabbed Kyle around his legs, and pulled him down onto the soft pile of hay, the redhead landing gently beside him. 

“Stan!” Kyle called out in protest, unable to hide his cheerful undertone as his body hit the straw with a small _thud_. Kyle let out a long sigh as he just laid down on the bed of yellow, craning his head towards Stan as he shook it. 

“Was that really necessary?” 

Stan chuckled, “No, but does everything have to be?” 

Kyle smirked, “What kind of a question is that?” He asked, Stan watching as his Adam’s apple ran down his throat, Kyle looking as though he too suddenly realised just how close and alone they really were. 

Stan and Kyle met each other with soft eyes, the same eyes Stan remembered Kyle gave him only once before…

Everything seemed to stand still for a moment. The sweltering heat in the barn became a non-existent thought. The stench of the animals that had lived in there before was completely absent from Stan’s mind. The only thing he could focus on was the sound of Kyle’s breathing, inches away from his face, as it became louder and louder. 

Stan let out a sigh as he observed the redhead in such closeness like he’d never seen. He looked at the way his curls laid upon the hay, sprawled out beneath his head, his green eyes glittering as they absorbed the few sun’s rays that made their way into the barn through the missing panels. He felt an incredible urge to stretch out his arm and touch his flushed cheeks, cheeks that were less than an arm’s length away. And so, he did. 

The black haired boy reached out and placed the back of his hand against Kyle’s face, the redhead shuttering for a moment upon the initial touch, his pupils growing wider. Stan gulped, not sure what his next move should be, but knowing that whatever it was, he hoped he could make it as meaningful as possible because, well, this was Kyle after all. 

But before he could react, the redhead approached Stan instead, getting up off the cloud-like hay and bringing himself nearer. Kyle took hold of Stan’s warm face and pulled it towards his, a rush of nervous excitement washing over the raven haired boy as he felt the familiar feel of Kyle’s gentle lips against his own. Stan’s eyes shut tight as he was transported back to one of the most amazing moments in his life, feeling overwhelmed that he was getting a chance to relive it. This time, there was nothing there to distract Stan from the beautiful merchant who cupped his face, the black haired boy knowing that he was completely free to immerse himself in the moment, a moment he knew he had to hold onto forever, because there was no way of knowing if he would ever get a chance to again. 

The two started to become more and more disconnected from reality. Repressed feelings and tension that had never been properly addressed or released were coming to the surface, being dealt with better than Stan could’ve ever imagined. All the answers to his burning questions were being answered with Kyle’s lips, lips that mesmerised him in ways nothing had before. 

What began as soft and gentle kisses were quickly becoming…a little less gentle than before, especially with the addition of the redhead’s tendency to bite down on Stan’s lower lip, the whole thing starting to feel numb as a result, not that he cared, though. 

Stan found it harder and harder to breath as the kisses became deeper, stronger. The mere sound of Kyle’s panting and the feeling of his thick, sweaty hair in his hands was enough to drive Stan crazy, crazy to the point where he couldn’t stand to watch him move his body up and down right beside him anymore. Unable to take it any longer, the dark haired boy grabbed hold of the redhead and pulled him on top of him, Kyle accepting without hesitation. 

The rocking Stan had merely observed go on beside him could now be felt against his whole body as Kyle moved in rhythm with his, the two of them breathing harder and faster than they could ever remember, never having felt such a rush before. 

It was then that Stan realised that he could do something he’d always wanted to try, hoping that the redhead wouldn’t be too shocked when he did it. The black haired boy took his hands off the middle of Kyle’s back, brought them down to his ass, and gripped it hard, squeezing it though the tunic’s fabric, his mind going wild with the thought of what it would feel like to grip it bare. 

The grab sent a rush through Kyle’s body, the redhead letting out a moan of pleasure right into Stan’s ear, the black haired boy shutting his eyes tight as he let the sound fill his eardrums, gripping him again just to hear his shamelessly loud reaction one more time. 

Kyle rocked hard into Stan, his pelvis pressing down on the knight’s, Stan being pushed deeper and deeper into the hay; only the sounds of their heated breathing filling the stuffy air. The feeling of Kyle’s hard-on as it continued to rub against his was becoming too much to handle, despite Stan trying his hardest to hold himself back. With one final thrust upwards into Kyle, the black haired boy released, his body deflating into the hay once the pinnacle moment had passed, the moment becoming even more charged as he listened to Kyle’s laboured exhale as he too finished on top of him nearly right after. It was a passionate experience unlike anything Stan had had before, and holy shit did he feel lucky that he got to have it with Kyle. A feeling of comfortable warmth washed over him as the black haired boy hugged him close and pressed his slender, fatigued body into his, wishing he never had to let go. 

The redhead let out a long sigh as he put his full weight on top of Stan, his body going completely limp. 

“Am I too heavy?” Kyle asked, his breath still recovering. 

Stan shook his head, “No. You’re perfect.” 

 

The two of them took their time as they allowed themselves to digest what had just gone on, gazing into each other’s eyes as they did so with gentle smiles etched on their faces, never having felt so close to another person in that way before. Neither wanted to leave that barn in the slightest, but as more and more noise was starting to be heard from the exterior of the barn, they let out heavy sighs as they realised that they really didn’t have any other option. 

The two shared one last, passion-filled kiss before they exited the barn, leaving in a daze and hardly remembering to pick up the bucket of strawberries as they left. Stan had to resist the urge to take hold of Kyle’s hand as they walked back to his home, just wanting to feel his touch in any way that he could. All he could really hope for in that moment was that whatever just happened between them would remain in his memory forever, and that was something that didn’t seem like it would be a difficult task. 

When they finally approached Kyle’s home after having first tried to clean their tunics in a nearby well as much as they could from, well, their previous activities, the boys noticed that something seemed off right away. There was a quietness from within despite it being rather late in the morning, and even more peculiar yet, the door was slightly ajar, which was something Stan had never seen at Kyle’s house before. 

“My parents would never leave the door open like that, unless…” Kyle said, his eyes going wide as he grabbed Stan’s arm and pulled him inside, not bothering to finish his sentence. The dark haired boy followed the redhead downstairs, only to find that it was a little bit more crowded than usual.

“W-what’s going on?” Kyle asked, his eyes wide as he saw the solemn expression on his father’s face as he turned to face his son. 

His father reached out and placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, letting out a slow breath before he stepped aside and revealed the table that had been Kenny’s bed for weeks. 

“Kyle, he… he didn’t make it.” 

Kyle’s jaw dropped open. The merchant darted over to the table and gripped the side, glancing down at the blonde’s closed eyes, the boy having a lifeless, yet somehow, peaceful expression etched on his face. 

“Oh my god…” Kyle let out, Stan stepping up behind him and taking a quick look before he too could no longer bare it and adverted his eyes away. 

“But I… I thought he was getting better…” Kyle squeaked, his lip beginning to tremble. 

His mother came up from behind and took one of her son’s hands, holding it tightly. 

“We all did, but sometimes… horrible things still happen, even to good people like Kenny. I’m so sorry, bubbe.” She said with a gulp, trying to be strong for her son. 

Stan watched as Kyle lowered his head for a moment, that was, before he abruptly brought it back up. 

“Where’s Cartman?” He asked, eyes reddened. 

“He’s out in the backyard.” Ike said softly from his father’s side. “I think he needs you, Kyle.” 

With that, Kyle nodded and headed back up the ladder, knowing exactly what he needed to do. 

It was a heartbreaking thing to watch: Cartman collapse into Kyle’s arms the way that Kyle did the night of the banquet, the brunette sobbing into the shoulder of his tunic. The black haired boy merely sat down, trying to deal with his own pain, unable to imagine how horrible Kyle and Cartman must’ve felt. 

Kyle released himself for a second to wipe his eyes, and in that moment, the redhead did something strange. Kyle grabbed hold of the collar of his tunic and pulled it hard until a piece of it was torn, Kyle letting out a choked breath after it was done. Stan wasn’t quite sure why it was done, but one thing that was certain was that it was a perfect way to express just how broken he must’ve felt on the inside, or at least, a small portion of just how torn he really was…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A door being open (well, not locked, but for the sake of the story I said opened to make it more obvious), is a practice at a house of mourning for Jews, which is why when Kyle saw the door open, he was already suspicious of what was going on inside the house
> 
> When Kyle tears his clothes, this is a practice called _keriah_ . You tear your clothes to show how torn you are when someone has died, and also because it shows that although the physical body may be torn, the soul and memories of the person will still live on 
> 
> ((Also, I will try to get one more chapter out this month, but forgive me if the next update isn't for a while. I will be on vacation for a lot of July, so yeah, I'm not abandoning the story by any means, but if the next update isn't until the end of July or even the beginning of August, you know why))


	16. Chapter 16

A violent thunderstorm struck that night and many nights to follow. The storm clouds that hovered overhead seemed to remain, and the rain that continued to fall from them day by day was relentless like nothing Stan had seen before. It was pathetic fallacy at its finest. If Kenny’s death was indicative of what was to come, Verhalten was in for a degree of unparalleled turmoil like no other. 

Stan’s head hung low as he trudged off the waterlogged field, his battle gear coated in a thick layer of mud that he knew would take forever to wash off. Every step he took was a laborious task with his feet that were in a state of deterioration, the water having seeped into his shoes and caused him to grow some sort of fungus that infected his whole foot, the doctors not giving him any advice other than to simply trudge through the pain. They seemed to be in no mood to deal with the complaints of the young man, nor any other young man who came to the officials with problems, everyone seeming so… preoccupied, although no one quite knew why. 

As the black haired boy walked down the long path through the castle gardens after training was over, he heard a soft, familiar voice call from behind that caught his attention.   
“Wendy?” He asked, spinning his head around to watch as the raven haired girl approached. 

“Stan,” She said as she walked up, the task taking longer than usual with the ridiculous length of her decorative dress. “We need to talk.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow her way, “What happened?” 

Wendy shook her head, “I can’t tell you here. Just follow me back to my house; I’ll explain everything there.” 

Stan nodded, and with that, they were off. Stan wanted nothing more than to return home and try to shake off the intensity of that day’s training, but the urgency in Wendy’s voice got to him in a way it never had before. The dark haired girl rarely even spoke to Stan anymore since they stopped being neighbours in their childhoods, and so for her to seek him out after her work was something out of the ordinary to say the least. 

The two of them meandered silently down a narrow lane alongside the exterior of the castle walls, Wendy now living in the same area as all the rich noble officials. Stan couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer size of the homes on her block, but the heavy feeling of his armour and the pain in his feet was just too distracting for him to fully enjoy the sights. But soon enough, they arrived at one of the smallest homes at the end of the block, a modest white and tan house with strong rock walls and a large chimney, courtesy of the King no doubt. Wendy allowed Stan time to take off his armour and clean himself off in the well out back before they talked, the boy preferring to change into his tunic rather than his tights, the fabric being the most comfortable thing he owned, in a physical as well as mental sense. 

Once Stan emerged ready, he took a seat on a chair in Wendy’s living room that faced the fireplace, the warmth being comforting in an August that turned so cold so fast. 

“Can I ask what you’re wearing?” Wendy asked with a smirk, sitting in a chair across from him, eyeing his tunic up and down. 

Stan reached out and scratched the back of his neck, “Oh, this? It’s… just something I got from a friend.” 

Wendy’s smirk remained, “Alright, if that’s the story you’re going with.” She said with a shrug, “But I didn’t bring you here to ask you about your clothes; I actually need to tell you something really important- something that we have to be quiet about even here. I couldn’t risk saying anything while we were still on castle grounds.” 

Stan gulped, “Okay; what is it?” 

Wendy bit her lower lip, the action only making Stan more nervous. “Stan, have you noticed any changes in your training lately?” 

Stan knit his eyebrows together as he leaned forward, locking eyes with the dark haired girl. “…Yeah, there’ve been some changes I guess. Why are you asking, though?” 

“What kind of changes?” Wendy pressed, leaning in. 

Stan cleared his throat, the fire in front of him suddenly seeming more intimidating for some reason. “…I guess we’ve just been training harder. A lot harder. They’re not giving us any breaks, and a lot of us are starting to get sick with infections.” He said straightforwardly, sticking out his bandaged up foot as proof. 

Wendy nodded, “Yeah, so I’ve heard. The medics are working nonstop to compensate.” She said as she swallowed. “And when would you say that that started?” 

Stan cocked an eyebrow, “Uh… I can’t think of a specific day, but probably… about a month ago? Something like that?” 

Wendy nodded, “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say...” 

Stan tilted his head to the side, “Dude, can you please just tell me already what’s going on? You’re making me anxious.” 

Wendy chuckled dryly, “Yeah well, you should be. We should all be.” She said before locking eyes with the knight. “Stan, there’s something the King hasn’t told you guys. That he hasn’t told anyone except for us counsellors. Something that’s going to affect everyone in Verhalten.” 

Stan’s eyes went hard. “Jesus Christ Wendy, just tell me what it is.” 

Wendy let out one last exhale. “Alright, well, the reason you guys have been training harder recently, and by recently you said around a month? Just think about what else started happening in the kingdom around a month ago.” 

Stan thought for a moment as he looked into her stern eyes, unable to come a conclusion. “I… can’t remember. There’s been a lot going on with me lately.” 

“Stan, that was when the epidemic started, the one in the peasant village.” She said as-a-matter-of-factly. “You might not have been told this, but a huge chunk of the village just… died. This was the worst case of the plague this town has ever seen. The King’s been doing his best to keep it under wraps, but with the amount of bodies as evidence… it’s nearly impossible.”

Stan gulped, “How many are we talking?” 

“Nearly 8 in 10 households.” She said, her eyes reflecting the fire’s flames as she turned her head away from Stan and looked into it. “…There’s trouble coming from the east.” 

Stan’s eyes went wide as he looked at Wendy, the girl still staring into the flames. “The Slavs? What do they have to do with anything?” Stan asked in a high pitched voice, but as he asked, he came to the realisation himself. “…They found out about the deaths, didn’t they?” 

Wendy nodded, still not making eye contact. 

“What, did they send a spy or something?” The raven haired boy asked, his voice still taking on a higher pitch. 

Wendy shrugged, “Maybe. Probably, actually; I can’t think of any other way. But it doesn’t really matter how they found out, does it? They’re coming regardless.”   
Stan went silent for a moment. 

“…Coming for…” 

“War.” 

He gulped. “I was afraid you’d say that.” 

She nodded, “I figured you’d be. I was afraid to even say it, but I knew you had to know. You’d be finding out sooner or later, anyway.” 

Stan laughed bitterly to himself, “Well yeah, considering I’ll be fighting in it…” He said, still not fully having taken in the severity. “Do you know anything else about the attack? Like when they’re coming, how big their army is… anything like that?” 

Wendy shook her head, “Not really. All I know is that they’re bigger than us. A lot bigger. And… uh, yeah, that’s it.” 

Stan picked his head up, hearing a strange tone in Wendy’s voice. “You know something else, don’t you?” 

The dark haired girl went quiet, still staring into the fire. “I…I don’t know if I should tell you this.” 

“You already told me everything else.” Stan said, his voice having lost its vigour. “Come on, just say it. You know I can handle it.” 

Wendy nodded before taking a deep breath. “The King said… the extra training you guys have been doing, it’s pretty much useless. He… he said that he’ll try to hold our ground for as long as we can, but he already knows our chances are less than slim.” She let out. “He said this might be the end of Verhalten. Or at least our rule over it.” 

Stan nodded solemnly, directing his eyes into the flames. “And what do you think? Do you think it’ll be the end of our kingdom?” 

Wendy let out a sigh. “I… honestly don’t know. I hope not, but there are no guarantees of anything right now. I’m sorry, Stan.” 

Stan shrugged, “You’re just the messenger; you didn’t do anything. I’d rather hear this from you than from the King at the last minute, anyways.” He said in a quiet voice. 

A few minutes passed, the two of them sitting in a reflective state, Stan’s mind running a thousand miles a minute as he tried to come to terms with the news, news that already felt terminal to him. 

War. It was a word Stan heard his whole life as a knight, yet somehow, no matter how many times he heard it, it was still just as impactful each time. Especially when it meant he had to fight in it; fight a battle he seemed pretty much destined to lose. It was a sick twist of fate, but then again, it was to be expected in the life of a knight. But just because something was expected didn’t make it any easier, at least it didn’t for Stan. 

“So the King isn’t sending for reinforcements?” He asked, breaking the silence. 

Wendy sighed, “No, not that I know of. Every other kingdom around here’s been ravaged by the same plague… It’d be useless to even bother asking.” 

Stan let out a heavy sigh, dropping his eyes to the floor as he tried to take in everything all at once, the task being an impossible one. For some reason, despite all the horrible thoughts, there was one that kept popping back into his mind, one that made everything seem a little less horrible. 

“I… I have to go. There’s something I need to do.” 

Wendy lifted her head, “You’re not going to the bar, are you? Because if you were thinking about it, I’m going to have to stop you right now: I don’t want you drunk going around telling everyone what I just told you. What I said was a secret, Stan.”

Stan rolled his eyes, “Wendy, you don’t think I figured that out? And no, I’m not going to the bar; I don’t trust myself enough right now to do that.” He said honestly before taking a deep sigh. “I’m going to see… someone.” 

Wendy raised an eyebrow, “Dressed like that?” 

Stan nodded, looking down at the tunic. “Yeah. Just like this.” 

“What, are you going to the Jewish ghetto or something?” She asked obliviously. 

“…Maybe somewhere like that.” Stan let out quietly. 

“Stan, what the hell? You know you’re not allowed in there!” Wendy said with a stern voice. 

The black haired boy shrugged, “Hey, I’m a dead man anyways, right?” 

Wendy cocked her head to the side, “Stan, just because… I… agh, you’re going to do whatever you want anyways, aren’t you? No matter what I say?” 

The knight reached out and placed a hand on her knee. “It’s crazy how well you still know me.” 

Wendy rolled her eyes, “Well I guess you better get going then, before it gets too dark. I wouldn’t want you to get lost on the way back from your secret rendez-vous.”   
Stan chuckled, “Yeah, me neither.” He said only half-jokingly. 

“Tell her she needs to be careful letting reckless knights like you around her. Might get her in trouble.” Wendy said with an elevated eyebrow. 

“Oh I think they already figured that out.” Stan said, smiling to himself. “They figured that out a long time ago.” 

 

Without much thought, Stan acted on his first instinct, only thinking about the consequences when he was much too far to turn back. The last time he ventured into the ghetto at night was the very first he ever entered it, back when he joined Kyle’s family for dinner on the Sabbath, back when he barely even knew Kyle…

He lead himself to the tunnel, taking careful observation of his environment before he entered, lit a torch, and made his way through, just wanting to get to the other side as soon as he could. 

Before he had time to digest what he was doing, he found himself at the redhead’s window, tapping on the glass and awaiting a response. After only a few seconds of anticipation, a familiar face appeared before him, Kyle’s expression estranged. As the redhead mouthed his name, Stan gestured for him to come outside, having a look of urgency on his face that dissipated upon seeing Kyle’s. 

Stan sat on the ground next to his fence and took a deep breath, Wendy’s words coming back into the forefront of his mind, words that he knew he needed to share with Kyle, as secretive as they may have been. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but then again, doing the ‘right’ things in Verhalten rarely yielded positive outcomes, at least as far as Stan saw it. 

The black haired boy stood up as the merchant came around back, a long, dark cloak draped around his body to shield him from the surprisingly crisp late August air. 

“Stan, what is it?” Kyle asked in a hoarse voice, having just been awoken from his sleep. 

Stan gulped, “I need to tell you something, but it should probably be in private.” 

Kyle nodded, assuming that Stan probably had a good reason for making the trip all the way to his home when he did, especially considering that he would have to be back early that morning for lessons anyway. 

“Okay; we’ll just go to our barn, then. We can talk in secret there.” 

Stan nodded, and with that, they were off- off to a place that had become more and more familiar to them the past little while. 

With Kenny’s passing having taken place about a month ago, the three boys were slowly trying to move on, knowing that although nothing could replace the presence of their friend, they still had to live their lives, which is exactly what Kenny would have wanted them to do; something Kyle had to keep reminding Cartman who was inevitably taking it the hardest. Kyle and Stan resumed their Hebrew lessons, Stan actually getting a pretty good grasp on the scroll writing, despite the long break they had in between all the other events that had been going on. Cartman resumed his Bishop work at a church in a new location, having requested to be moved from the one that was so close to where Kenny used to live. Kyle was now a full-time Hebrew teacher. The redhead looked more frazzled than before, but it was understandable seeing as he had to deal with kids all day long, something he admitted to Stan was more tiring than he anticipated, but rewarding nonetheless. Yet despite all these changes, the biggest change of all came out of what had been going on between the knight and the merchant, or at least, that was the biggest change Stan noticed, anyway. 

The trek they were making that night to the barn wasn’t one that was unfamiliar to them; the only difference was that it was typically a trek they’d make in the wee hours of the morning before or after lessons as opposed to after dusk. Ever since Kyle and Stan had a taste of what it could be like for the two of them to be together like that, they didn’t exactly see it as an option to just cherish the moment and move on, especially if they could easily figure out a time and location that would allow for their secret relations to continue. Neither of them addressed exactly what was going on, at least not by name: all they knew was that they felt right when they were together, and that was all that mattered. Yes, they were both males, and yes, they came from completely separate sides of the kingdom, from different families and religions, but somehow, that failed to deter them from seeing each other, as wrong as they knew it was, because when they were together, it felt the farthest thing from that. 

Kyle swung open the creaky barn door and allowed Stan to enter, shutting it firmly after he left using the light of Stan’s torch as his guide. Stan rose the torch up high and led the way towards the back of the barn, placing it in a holder on the side of the wall before he sat down in a soft pile of hay, Kyle sitting in close proximity beside him. 

Stan lowered his eyes to the ground as he took in a deep breath, realising just how hard it would be to simply announce something like this to Kyle after having just heard it himself. After a few moments of silence between them, Stan felt a gentle touch on his shoulder that caused him to lift his head, Kyle looking back at him with an expression of concern on his face, the redhead raising an eyebrow as he took a deep breath in with Stan. 

“Whenever you’re ready, dude.” Kyle said softly, his green eyes reflecting the dim firelight. 

Stan nodded as he let out a final sigh, biting his lip before he began. “Kyle, Wendy told me something today, something about the future of Verhalten…” 

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows, “Who’s Wendy?” 

“Oh, right, I forgot you didn’t know her. She’s one of my childhood friends, but she’s an advisor to the King now.” Stan said, locking eyes with the merchant. 

Kyle crinkled his nose upon hearing Stan’s answer, “…And it’s okay that you’re telling me something the King’s advisor told you? Something she probably told you in confidence?” 

Stan breathed out slowly, “It’s not like it’s going to be a secret for much longer; trust me.” 

Kyle gulped, “Okay, well… as long as you’re sure. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.” 

Stan nodded, “I know you wouldn’t.” He said with certainty, rubbing the back of his neck as he decided how to proceed. “Uh… god, where do I even start? I guess… I may as well just tell it to you straight; there’s not really an easy way to put it.” 

Kyle nodded. “Aright; go ahead.” 

Stan swallowed hard.

“…Kyle, Verhalten’s going to be attacked. Armies from the east are coming, and they’re coming soon.” Stan said, eyes hard. 

Kyle swallowed. “How soon?” 

Stan let out a sigh, “I’m not sure, and neither is Wendy, but she knows that it won’t be too long now. They found out about the epidemic, so… it’s pretty much just a waiting game at this point.” 

Kyle sighed, “To be honest, I figured someone would eventually. If the King thought we could’ve kept that a secret forever, he was just fooling himself.” Kyle said somberly, his eyes directed at the floor before he abruptly brought them back up. “Wait, so what’s that mean for you?” 

Stan chuckled dryly, “It means I have to do what I’ve been training all my life to do. I have to fight.” 

Kyle bit his lip. “How big is the army that’s coming?” 

Stan laughed bitterly to himself once more, “I’m not sure about that either, but honestly, it wouldn’t take too much to take us down right now with our numbers, and they know that.” He explained, opening and closing his mouth a few more times as he was about to speak but every time retracting his statements. “I…” 

Kyle shook his head before grabbing hold of Stan’s hand and clutching it tight. “You don’t have to say anything else, dude. It’s okay to be scared. I would be too.” 

Stan shook his head, “But Kyle, I’m supposed to be used to this. I’m a knight. It’s my duty to fight, to protect my kingdom, to protect people like you, Kenny and Cartman who don’t fight in the wars. I just… I can’t figure out why it still scares me so much. I’m supposed to see it as an honour to fight; that’s what we were trained to think all our lives.” 

Kyle smiled bitterly to himself, “Yeah well, they can train you to think a certain way all they want, but they don’t have the power to actually let what they say fully get through to you, no matter how much they try. It didn’t get through to me, all the shit they’ve always told me about us being worth less than everybody else, and clearly it didn’t get through to you either.” Kyle said warmly, his vibrant eyes meeting Stan’s. “So I guess sometimes it’s good to not get influenced by what the higher ups tell us we have to think: it lets us keep the little part of individuality we have when everything is so… set.” 

Stan managed to smile back at Kyle, the nervous feeling he had in the pit of his stomach seeming justifiable for reasons only Kyle could convince him of. The black haired boy leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, pulling away slowly as he spoke to him. 

“I… don’t really know why I felt like I had to come here and tell you all this right away. There was just a part of me that wanted to tell someone, and the only person I could think of telling was you.” He said quietly, his face still only inches away from Kyle’s. “…Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one I’m not afraid to let my guard down around, where I don’t have to pretend to be this… strong person, because I’m not, Kyle, I’m really not, and you’re one of the only ones who knows that.” Stan said honestly, bringing his eyes back down. 

Kyle merely shook his head before reaching his hand out and touching the smooth face in front of him, “I know what you mean. I feel the same way about you.” 

Stan and Kyle looked into each other’s eyes, a mutual feeling of serenity filling the chilly air around them. Even with only the dim torch light to illumine each other, Stan could still see the redhead so clearly, each dimple in his cheeks, every square inch of bright red stubble on his face, every detail looking far too beautiful to go unnoticed. Stan felt his heart palpitate in his chest, the sound starting to echo into his ears as his heart began to thump faster and faster, the black haired boy unsure if it was from his nerves regarding the news he just found out that night, or rather from watching as Kyle lifted his tunic up and over his head. 

The loose cord and brown fabric dropped down into the soft hay beside him, Stan unable to do anything other than gawk at the gorgeous man that knelt in front of him, less than an arm’s length away. His chest was lean and spattered with the same colour hair as the rest of his body, that same colour hair leading down towards the final thing that caught his attention. Stan gulped as he finally got a good look, this being the first time he got to take in Kyle fully, seeing as their previous endeavors in the barn were ones where both of them were fully clothed, the men merely lifting up their clothing if they wanted to perform anything risqué, which they most definitely had. 

Stan wasn’t sure if it was because that night he learned that he was probably going to be dead in a couple weeks, maybe a month or two at most, but there was a new level he felt he reached with Kyle that night, a level where he too felt compelled to undress himself right then and there, not giving even the slightest thought about what would happen if they were caught together. As the dark haired boy undid his rope and let it fall to the floor, he felt a surge of warmth wash over him from his face down, realising that this was the first time anyone was ever going to see him fully naked. It was a terrifying feeling unlike any other, especially with how self-conscious he felt about the scar across his torso, but it was one he was willing to take because, well, it was Kyle after all. 

Once Stan pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside, he couldn’t help but feel relieved as he saw Kyle’s expression change, the redhead appearing almost overwhelmed by what he saw in front of him, Stan hoping that it was a good kind of overwhelmed. Yet soon enough, his nerves would be calmed as he watched Kyle approach, reaching out his hand and stroking his abs with delicate fingers before he grabbed hold of the raven haired boy’s back and yanked him close so that their bodies were touching in full, skin to skin.   
Despite the chilliness, Kyle’s body felt hot against his, the feeling of his smooth skin sending shivers through Stan’s entire form, especially so when he brought his crotch even closer than the rest of their bodies were, the black haired boy unknowingly beginning to make a rocking motion as he pressed into him, almost as though he wanted to be soldered together like two pieces of metal becoming one. 

Before Stan knew it, he leaned forward, tipping the redhead back until he fell into the hay behind him, his bare skin contacting the straw with almost no sound at all. The black haired boy kissed him like he never had before, his whole being feeling overwhelmed with emotions he didn’t quite understand. Every movement of his lips sent him farther and farther away from reality and entered him into a new place where it was only him and Kyle who mattered. Their exposed bodies were vulnerable to everything around them, bodies that would normally be seen working or training, yet bodies that, in that moment, were being used in ways only each other got to experience, both of them realising just how lucky they were to know what that felt like. 

As Stan and Kyle grinded into each other, the heat intensified. Their skin was now coated with a thin layer of sweat, sweat that only made everything a thousand times more intense. Stan couldn’t help but get distracted by heat that emulating from a particular region, a region he couldn’t simply ignore. He took his hand from the redhead’s hair and brought it downward, gripping him in a way that caused Kyle to let out a soft grunt as the knight began to move his hand up and down, watching the redhead’s eyes shut, head tilt back, and his face be taken into a place only Stan knew how to get him to. 

Stan’s eyes went half lidded as he looked on at Kyle’s beautiful face, the only thing he could think to do being to stroke harder, and place delicate kisses up and down his neck, kisses that soon turned into small bouts of sucking, Stan trying to be careful not to suck on one spot for too long to avoid the inevitable. 

Before long, he felt a familiar feeling in his hand, the stiff feeling of Kyle’s readiness, but before he let him finish, Kyle reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping Stan from any further movement. 

“Don’t finish me yet.” Kyle said breathily, his mind so near to orgasm. The redhead took Stan’s hand and directed it elsewhere, to a place they had been preparing for quite some time now. Without speaking, Stan knew what to do. He quickly lifted his hand up and stuck his fingers into his mouth, making sure there was a decent coating of saliva before he brought them back down and hovered over the entrance, biting his lip as he looked at Kyle’s anticipatory reaction. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Stan asked softly, applying a bit of pressure to the area, gaging his reaction. Kyle nodded wordlessly, and so, Stan pressed on. It wasn’t the first time they’d prepared before, but there was something different about this time, something that said that this was what all their preparing was about to amount to. It might have been the fact that they realised how little time they had left together, but for some reason, it didn’t seem like that was the motive at all. Whether or not they learned about the invasion that day, Stan felt that this night with Kyle was coming soon, both of them having grown closer and closer over the past while in ways he never imagined he could with anyone. But whatever the reason, they were both finally ready to fully share everything with each other, and no ghetto walls or societal restrictions were going to stop them. 

After a decent amount of time had passed, in one swift motion, Stan removed his fingers from Kyle, lifted himself up, and placed himself at his entrance, Kyle’s eyes shut tight in anticipation of what was to come. Ever so slowly, Stan nudged himself inside, being careful not to push too hard too fast, as tempting as it was. Kyle’s hands gripped the hay beside him as he struggled to get used to the feeling of something entering him that was much bigger than anything he’d had inside of him before, Stan just hoping he wasn’t putting him in more pain than he needed to be. 

“Are you okay?” Stan whispered, lowering his body closer to his as he sunk in deeper, the feeling of envelopment driving him insane to the point where he almost forgot what he just asked. 

Kyle nodded, facial muscles still tense. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He said breathily, exhaling slowly as Stan’s body lowered closer and closer to his. With a few final moans, Stan ever so slowly pressed his torso against Kyle’s, their skin reconnected as they both breathed heavily into each other’s ears, mouths dry as their lips contact yet again. 

Stan felt Kyle’s hands grab hold of the middle of his back and pull him down closer, forcing him to delve in deeper yet, the motion forcing long, laboured breaths out of Kyle’s mouth that drove Stan wild, the black haired boy unable to simply lie there while fully inside. The two of them began to buck gently into one another, their sweaty bodies and heavy breathing all each other could focus on as they disconnected from everything around them except the other person that they was lying on top them. In a shorter time than they would’ve wished, they both released in roughly the same time frame, Kyle lasting slightly longer than Stan. 

With their last exhales, Stan collapsed onto Kyle, allowing his full weight to fall onto him, the redhead gently taking hold of his body and pushing him to the side, the black haired boy a little too heavy for the slender merchant to handle. 

When all was said and done, both boys laid exhausted on the hay in the best way possible, the only thing they could think to do was to stare into each other’s eyes, the torch light growing dimmer and dimmer in the background. Kyle lifted up a hand and graced his fingers across Stan’s flushed cheek, sending a smile across his face that in turn made one form on Kyle’s, both of them looking the happiest they’d ever seen each other. 

“Kyle, I don’t want to leave tonight.” Stan said softly, unable to look away from the redhead for even a second. 

Kyle shook his head. “Then don’t.” 

Stan smiled back, remembering that Kyle was allowed to let him to stay if he deemed it necessary, and so luckily, he must have. 

Stan and Kyle moved closer to one another to keep warm, the heat they created together slowly dwindling as they cooled off, neither of them noticing all too much, though.   
Minutes later, the torch finally went out, and with that, they both shut their eyes, hugging each other close, skin to skin, as they were about to attempt to sleep. Stan felt a strange mixture of heart pounding and relaxation coursing through him, his tiredness trying to get the best of him, but his mind not allowing for it. Yet as time went on, his pulse returned to normal as he grew accustomed to the body that he had nestled into his chest, and with one last touch of his thick, curly hair before he nodded off, he spoke into the silence. 

“I love you, Kyle.” 

The redhead’s head picked up, and despite the darkness, Stan could see the bright white of his teeth as he smiled a warm, comforted smile. 

“I love you too, Stan.” He let out, sinking his head right back down into Stan’s chest as he let out a slow breath, a breath that hit Stan’s skin and sent shivers down his spine. 

Now, they could both go to sleep in peace, having said everything that was on their minds, knowing that whatever life was going to bring them, they could at least know that they were loved, loved by the only person that they needed to hear that from, those words having more restorative powers than anything else ever could.


End file.
